#I should really really look up the tags for this.

[drgnflyteabox]

daddy cool ⋆˙⟡

john price x fem!reader summary: “I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.” ↪or the one in which hairy muscle daddy john price asks you to show him your skills disco style tags/warnings: 70s clubbing, body hair is a central theme, scent kink, daddy kink, deepthroating, rough oral (m), cigars, some alcohol, manipulation if you squint,vaginal fingering + sex, a bit of exhibition kink but not really at all (one line), 'little' not used as a size indicator, dom/sub, oral (f), tiny gape mention

“I think he’s interested in you,” Debbie whisper-screams in your ear. It’s hard to hear her over the boom of the drums, over the four on the floor beat and soaring voices. 

“Really?”

“Girl,” she laughs, incredulous. You look over your shoulder and sure enough he’s fixing you with a stare hot enough to burn through steel.

He’s flanked by two others, but you hardly notice them. You’re staring right into the deep V of his open shirt, at the fur peeking out of it, at the pink of his tongue as it swipes his bottom lip under his mustache. Sinful.

The booth he’s sitting in is draped with orange translucent curtains, creating some illusion of privacy. No overhead lights, either, just a soft cave and dark burgundy leather. Perfect for a bear like him.

“Should I go over there?” you whisper-scream back, curling closer to Debbie, “he’s a bonafide stud.”

She laughs, throwing her long hair over her shoulder, “yeah he is, and he’s looking at you, girl.”

You peek again. He’s smiling this time, like someone who knew you’d look twice. Beyond his shirt, his pants are so goddamn tight you can see almost everything. Christ, who let him out of the house looking like that?

“I’m gonna go over,” you say before you can stop yourself.

A saxophone disco beat booms through the club, thrumming right through you down to your toes, which you move to dance your way to him. Debbie laughs behind you, disappearing into the crowd.

Your hips go side to side, your teeth bite your bottom lip, and you fix him with what you hope is a clear message; you’re hot.

He stays exactly where he is. There’s a smugness about him now, the same smugness you saw when you looked twice.

You can’t really blame him for it. Someone that looks like that is bound to expect attention, desire.

God, he’s just your type. A quiet kind of arrogance, one arm slung over the back of the booth as he lifts a cigar up to his mouth and puffs. Lazily, like a big lion that knows he doesn’t have to hunt to get his food.

“Hello, love,” he says slowly when you get close enough. You’re still bouncing to the music, but you lean forward to hear him better.

“Interested in me, are you?” you’re going for a coy, simpering kind of approach. Something about him makes you want to lay it on thick, want to seduce. To preen a little.

His knuckles are dark in the lighting, hairy and tough like he works with his hands, which you catch as he pats the booth beside him. 

You hadn’t even noticed his companions leaving.

“Saw you dancing,” he lifts a glass from the table, dark liquid, his mustache getting wet, “thought you might be interested, too.”

“You thought right,” you slide in beside him, the leather seat cool even through your tight bootcut pants. You tilt your knees towards him, lifting an elbow to match his on the back of the booth.

Reds, yellows, oranges dance on his skin. The occasional sparkle of the disco ball peeks through, but mostly it filters through the orange booth curtains and spreads into an archipelago of little bright spots. This lighting agrees with him, accentuates the best parts, makes them look darker and more defined. You’d feel like a pervert looking down his shirt if he wasn’t also doing the same to you.

“Name’s John, love,” and when you tell him yours he says, “that’s fitting.”

“So, what do you do?” boring, typical– but it’s all you’ve got. You’re surprised you can get words out at all with the drool pooling in your mouth. This close, you can see how his shirt strains where his shoulders move. A little too small, but it’s probably on purpose.

Should be illegal, honestly.

His eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s the kind of guy whose entire face changes when he smiles, who looks disarmingly more approachable that way.

“I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.”

“Talent?” you cross one leg over the other, trilling internally with satisfaction when you see his eyes fall to your thighs.

You know you aren’t being subtle in the least– and you aren’t trying to be. But you won’t say anything outright, not yet, not while the anticipation feels this tasty.

The booth isn’t private, but it is insulated. The music is loud, but not too loud, just enough that it thrums through you, that you can hear him. Anita Ward croons in your ear, encouraging you. He can ring your bell, that’s for sure.

“That’s right,” he puffs again. The smell makes you lightheaded.

“Moviestars, you mean?” you roll your ankle around, watching him watch you, wondering if he likes the polish colour you picked. 

You like that he’s visibly affected; licking his lips, that meaty hand climbing higher up his thigh.

“Something like that, love,” he smiles again, leans back in the booth and launches a counter attack to your leggy flirtations – he spreads those legs, feet pointed out, hunched just so that his belly starts poking out of those sinfully tight pants.

Motherfucker.

Looking back up at him, his eyes are crinkled at you, head tilted forward. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Which movies have you produced?” you lean your head on your hand, looking at him through your lashes, “anything I’ve seen?”

“I hope so,” he hums. His eyes flit down to your feet again, up to your midriff, then back to your eyes– it’s hot, but it’s also not just a flirtation. He’s assessing, “have you seen Swan Lady? The Nun and the Two Vikings?”

You frown, “no, I haven’t heard of either.”

“How about Call of Duty: Servicing the Captain?”

Ah, it clicks. Your eyebrows go up, into your hairline, “you make pornos?”

“Aye, smart girl,” he gruffs.

Pornos, huh. You could laugh– he looks the part. A little sleazy, unabashed. Masculine not to the point of parody but it’s close. The ‘stache is in style, but in combination with everything else is just the cherry on top.

You only have one question, “you don’t star in any?”

“I prefer working behind the scenes,” something about the way he says behind feels filthy.

John tells all. He does scout, finds girls who want to have a good time (like you), and gently (or so he says) nudges them in front of the camera. I can always sniff ‘em out, he says. The ones that’ll do well on film, that have star quality.

“How can you tell?” you ask, lips pulling on your straw. John has ordered you a tequila sunrise.

You can’t help but trace the skin of his neck with your eyes, roving at the bob of his Adam's apple as he explains. Girls who can take the gloves off, so to speak. Says he can tell by the way they move, how free they are with their bodies.

A little dubious, but it’s honestly doing it for you. You wonder what he saw when you danced up to him, if the sway of your body was free, liberated.

Doesn’t take long at all for him to invite you out either way. John puts his hand on your knee and squeezes, gets real close, gruffs that his place is nearby.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” and of course the only answer is yes, please.

Boney M. soars around you as you follow him out, your hand holding his, your fingers stroking the hairs on his knuckles. 

She’s crazy for her daddy!

On the drive over, he keeps that big paw on your thigh, squeezing almost subconsciously. Just the flex of his fingers.

You widen your knees, hoping for that rough palm to slide upwards, glancing at John as he drives one-handed. Not your first rodeo going home with a man from the disco, but it sure is the first time you’ve felt so keyed up about it.

He’s huge, takes up an absurd amount of room in the car, knee knocking into yours. He even drives sexy, so sure and in control.

“You think I could be in one of your movies?” you say, impish, looking to provoke.

John glances at you for just a second too long, too intense. You can tell he’s picturing you in front of the cameras.

“That what you want?”

“Just picturing it,” you simper, shifting your knee to deliberately touch him again. His fingers flex against your thigh again, jaw moving.

The air is warm, breezy, lights passing by like twinkling firebugs. You roll your window down, smiling at the feeling.

“Oh you're picturing it, are you? Is that making you wet, sweetheart?”

Fuck. It certainly is now.

“Only if you can be my co-star.”

“Is that right?” he laughs, low and deep. His hand climbs higher, “‘fraid I’m just the recruiter, but I’ll have to do a quality test.”

“Quality test?”

“Mm,” he hums, “need to make sure you’re ready for the camera, don’t I? You think you’ve got star quality, then prove it.”

Your panties are sticky.

“I can do that,” you breathe.

“Yeah? Can you prove you can show off your star quality for me, sweetheart?” his fingers slide, achingly slow, to the gusset of your pants, “that you can look into that camera and show the world you’re a good girl?”

They press against you, right up against your clit through the fabric. You fight to stay still, to not come across like you’re desperate, but god it’s hard. You ache.

“Mhm,” you breathe, subtly tilting your hips forward as he idly pets your pussy.

“Not an answer,” he says firmly. Butterflies dance in your stomach, the air slowly being siphoned out, leaving you hot and bothered. John is barely affected, it seems, driving still, gliding through the night.

“Sorry,” you swallow, “I can do that, daddy.”

“Much better.”

“Still want to prove it to me, love?” he moves to a glass cabinet, pulling out a little box. It opens with a click, revealing a neat row of thick cigars.

“Yes,” you stand in the middle of his living room, appreciating the atmosphere he’s made; low lighting, oranges, reds everywhere. Brown leather and the heady smell of cigar smoke, of leather polish and an incense-y kind of musk.

He walks back towards you, brand new cigar between his fingers, steps heavy on the carpet. You’re made aware of the height difference when he stands right in front of you, looking down not unkindly.

Your skin prickles at his gaze, the same one from the club; that assessment. Like he’s measuring you, testing you, scanning you.

John leans forward, breath puffing lightly across your face. He smells like his house does, only there’s a bit of whiskey mixed in.

You can’t help but squirm just a little, thighs rubbing together, both to relieve the pulsing ache of your pussy and that it’s impossible to stay composed under that gaze.

“Drop down,” he says finally, “to your knees, sweetheart.”

From your knees, you get a good fucking look at those tight pants– at the bulge in them. The hair on his chest sticks out a little, too, peeking at you from above. Hot. So hot.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, daddy,” you bite your lip again.

“Keep those hands down, alright?” he leans to the side and picks up a cigar lighter, watching you as he lights up.

John stands over you, new cigar lit, plumes of smoke drifting from his fingers. His expression is neutral, though he hums in a pleased way as he strokes the softness of your cheek.

“Take me out,” he commands.

You lean forward with your mouth, unable to resist giving him a good long sniff before you pull at his zipper with your teeth. He smells good, musky and strong, a little cologne there but mostly it’s natural.

When your teeth gently take his briefs, pulling, he cups the back of your head with a big hand and strokes your hair.

“Are you going to take it all, sweetheart? Right down your throat?”

You let his cock flop out of his underwear, heavy. The bush surrounding it makes your mouth water. It looks so good, long and a little curved, bouncing as if it’s teasing you.

You nod finally, hands squeezed into fists in your lap just the way he asked, “yes, daddy.”

“That’s my girl. Are you going to give daddy’s cock a little kiss first?”

You lean forward, lips pursed, planting a little kiss on the mushroom head of his cock. Though you ache to lick your lips, to taste him, you wait.

“That’s a good little girl,” he murmurs, “open your mouth.”

You do, holding your tongue out.

He grips the base, holding his cock up, tapping your tongue with the head. You almost whine, before he grips your head firmer and holds you still so he can slide the entire length of that monster right to the back of your throat.

Your nose hits his pubic bone, buried in the coarse hairs there, overwhelmed, hands balling into fists.

“That’s right,” he grunts, “hold it right there, sweetheart, show me you’ve got what it takes.”

God, he’s all the way in, a perfect fit. You try to stay still, anchoring yourself to him, to his palm, to the possibility of hearing good girl.

You gag a little, coughing around him, tears burning at your eyes as drool plip plops onto your chest.

Finally, he pulls out, stroking your hair, “good girl, such a good girl. Ready?”

“Yes,” you garble around the heady of his cock, clit swollen and needy, hands pressing hard into your thighs, “please fuck my face, daddy.”

He does, his pistoning, fucking your mouth like it’s a cunt. His hand cradles the back of your head, pushing you, hips moving, grunting when he’s not taking the occasional puff of his cigar.

You throb in your panties, body scorching hot, gagging every so often around the thick meat of John’s cock. Drool falls in viscous strings, tears following, the world dropping away. 

Nothing else but the slide of his cock in and out of your mouth exists, matters.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he pants raggedly.

You have no idea how long he lasts, only that when he’s finished you're an absolute mess. Wet faced and panting.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his rough thumbs. You look up at him through your clumped lashes, mouth open, “did so well for me, hm?”

“Thank you, daddy,” your voice is a little gravelly, but not painful.

John pulls you up with a hand at your bicep, walking you down a hallway off his living room and towards an open door. 

It’s his bedroom– and it’s decorated exactly as you’d imagined it.

The bed is huge, kingsized with a radio inlay and a thick, padded headboard that extends all around the mattress in a kind of cradle. His sheets are silk, dark, and dark orange.

“Nice digs,” you laugh, “you sure you aren’t a pornstar?”

He laughs behind you, setting his lit cigar into the ashtray on the bedside table. He slowly strips out of his clothes, getting totally naked. Then he slides in, and leans back.

“Give me a show, sweetheart.”

You hum, swaying again. You aren’t a pro at this kind of stuff, but it’s fun regardless to pull your shirt up and over your head like you’re a dirty dancer.

“Like this, daddy?”

John hums.

You slowly slide your pants down, turning so he can watch your ass move, kicking them away. You hear the slick sounds of him jerking his cock as you do.

“Should I take my panties off?” you ask, thumbs slipping into the elastic.

“Yes, take them off,” he grunts, “turn around.”

You do, then slowly slip your panties off. He licks his bottom lip again, quick.

“Come here.”

You slide onto the bed, on your knees, then crawl forward until you’re beside him, where he pushes you to lay on your side.

His heavy palm finds the naked skin of your hip, squeezing, “still want to show me your star power, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” you’re back in it, eyes half lidded. Your pussy is making a wet spot on your thighs, “I wanna show you.”

He pushes you to your back, slaps your thighs until you open your legs and hold them out. Then he pauses, hand at the junction of your thigh and hip, thumb inching towards your pussy.

“Look how wet you are, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

You clench, tilting your hips up. Your clit throbs.

“Ah ah, get back down,” he tuts.

Your ass touches the bed again, hips forced down by sheer willpower. His thumb finally reaches you, pulling aside your pussylip to gaze at your wetness.

It gushes out of you, and you’re sure he can see the way your hole clenches.

“Desperate little cunt, isn't she?” he uses his other hand, two two fingers coming to pull the hood of your clit up and just watch as it jumps needily, “awe, poor thing.”

“Please, daddy,” you could cry, “please, touch me.”

“Touch where, love? Touch this needy little clit?”

“Yes, please!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he abandons holding you open to bring his thumb to your exposed clit, rubbing in circles. You shout, a tremor immediately beginning. It’s too much and not enough at once, electric and icy-hot.

Then he slips those fingers inside you, slow and testing at first, but when he realizes just how wet and soft you are he curls them inside you deeply and oh, fuck, your eyes roll back into your head.

“That’s the spot, that’s it,” he grunts, shaking you, taking you apart.

John only fingers you long enough to let your wetness spill out of you, wetting your thighs, soaking his fingers– until you’re ready for his cock.

“You’re ready,” he lays the length of it against your pussy for a moment, letting your swollen lips hug his length, before he shifts back and nudges the head at your hole, “yeah, you’re ready for it.”

He stuffs you fucking full. You’ve never been so stuffed in your life, thankful for his diligent attention earlier or you might be really feeling the weight of him.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, back arching, nipples rubbing against his chest hair. It sparks pleasure from your tits right down your cunt, body aflame, hands scratching through the hair at his back.

It’s like fucking a bear, or a werewolf. He’s relentless, too, without mercy. Plows into you hard and long, thrusts measured, never faltering.

John fucks like a pornstar, there’s no doubt about it. He takes up so much space on top of you that without his arms holding him up you worry about being crushed– you crave it, too.

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, lip curling, mustache going with it, “want to be on camera, do ya? Let me hear you.”

You let loose, mouth open in one long drawn out sound, interposed only by the gasps you let out each time he hits you deep.

You tilt your head back, bearing your throat, taking each heavy thrust and crying out with them, squeezing around him.

“I’m gonna give it all to you, sweetheart, fuck,” he snaps his hips faster now, “and you’re gonna take it all like a star.”

You nod desperately, feeling his pubes each time he thrusts to the hilt, wet with your juices. You’re so fucking close, one breath to your clit and you’d lose your mind.

He straightens, hands going to your hips, tightening, as he snaps one, two, three times and tenses–

His head snaps back, neck bulging with veins as he comes, teeth bared in a growl as he curses, “fuck, good girl, that’s right– good fucking pussy–”

Hot come shoots inside, heating you up further, making you whine with frustration and satisfaction both.

When the taut line of his body relaxes and he pulls out, a flood of come following him, he slides to his stomach and spreads you open with his thumbs.

“Let daddy make it up to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs to your pussy, “he’s not usually so selfish.”

John looks down first. Your pussy is swollen, well-fucked, and you can feel a slight gape.

“Poor little pussy,” he murmurs, then seals his mouth over your clit until you fall apart.

“You sure you aren’t a pornstar?” your cheek is pressed to his chest, basking in the furriness, arm and leg thrown over his body.

He laughs, “I’m sure, sweetheart. But I will say–” he pauses to lean down and kiss the corner of your mouth, mustache still damp, “you’ve definitely got star quality.”

[smutoperator]

Leg Day

An Yujin, Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader

Tags: 69, A2M, anal, anal fingering, ass to pussy, ball sucking, cheating, crazy riding, creampie, doggy, facesitting, fucking and licking, gym, leg lifting, long legs, oral train, pussy eating, sloppy blowjobs, squats, squirting, threesome, thighjob, workout

Word count: 5581

You have just started your new job at the gym. Yet, your first task would be managing the training of some of its most VIP clients. As you entered the most private room of the installation, you found yourself alongside two tall girls with long legs.

"Hi," Yujin greeted you. You must be the new instructor," she said. Today is my friend and I's leg day. I hope you can get them very fit and toned," she continued. "Nice to meet you," Wonyoung was next. Let's start. Can you please bring some extra weight for me to push with my long legs?" she asked.

"Sure," you tell Wonyoung. Watching these two beautiful long-legged girls can be very distracting at times, but you keep your composure, it's the first day at your job and you need it. But as they exercise, they keep throwing some smiles and smirking at you.

"Let's cool down a bit," you say as you watch the girls push really hard and get really sweaty doing their leg pressing. "Cool down? I'm just warming up," Wonyoung answers you.

"Can you please bring my bottle to me?" Wonyoung asks you gently. It's very close to her you feel she could take it herself, but you decide not to upset her as she's a very VIP client of the gym.

"You're so handsome," Yujin tells you. "Thank you," you answer her as she blushes. Both girls continue doing their exercises. Wonyoung gets up from the leg presser and starts doing squats, Yujin laughing as she films her friend doing it.

"Girls, can you please stay focused?" you ask them as you suddenly ruin their fun, telling them what exercises they should actually do. "Come on, we pay a lot for this training, we should do whatever we want," Yujin tells you in a very bratty manner. "That's not how it works," you answer her.

Yujin and Wonyoung laugh. "No, baby, here we tell you how things work," Wonyoung says as both girls pull your pants down in one go, leaving the bottom of your body exposed. "Nice cock you got in there, would you mind if we suck it?" Yujin asks.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT, IS THIS SOME KIND OF PRANK?" you angrily scream at both girls, covering your intimate parts in a hurry? "We know this is your first day in this job," Wonyoung says. "So if you want to keep it, you should do what we tell you, including letting us use that big fat cock," Yujin continues.

"All right, but please, make sure my boss doesn't know about it," you tell them. "Well, we are your bosses now," Yujin answers as she locks the room's door and pumps up the music to the maximum. "Now, can you show the monster between your legs?" Wonyoung asks. "Sure," you answer her.

You uncover your hands from your cock, drawing awes from both Yujin and Wonyoung as she looked at your manhood. "Might be the best we've got in this room so far, and we've got some big ones before," Yujin says. Both girls quickly get on their knees and lick your shaft from the side, their sexy tongues running all over its length, them moving fast right from the get cock.

Wonyoung is the first of the two to take it on her throat, soon making loud noises as she sloppily chokes on your dick. "Such nice cock you have for us today," Yujin says, following her young groupmate and diving for your balls. Both girls then take turns switching their positions, each one taking some good time to enjoy your big cock.

Yujin helps you quickly get fully naked, while she pulls her tight shirt to the side and takes her pants off, showing you her perky tits up top and exposing her thicc thighs and toned ass at the bottom. "Look at this slut, already taking everything off," Wonyoung says as she follows her unnie's lead, but taking her top off instead, exposing her perky little tits and cute torso, leaving just her sneakers and shorts on as both girls keep sharing your cock.

"Lay down, let us handle that big fat cock," Yujin commands, pushing you in the direction of the floor as both girls surround you ready to suck more of that big fat pole. Yujin opens the works with a little spit on your shaft, Wonyoung already sticking her tongue out like a snake ready to bite her prey.

Yujin takes your cock in her mouth first, bobbing her head hard on it before she passes it to Wonyoung. The girls engage in a crazy competition to see who can suck your cock the fastest and the loudest, giving you very sloppy blowjobs. Wonyoung takes on your tip while Yujin runs her mouth all over your shaft. "Fuck yeah," is all you can say, holding yourself not to blow your load in their pretty faces.

"Let's spit all over this dick," Wonyoung commands as she lets Yujin now move her mouth fast all over it. "Oh yeah, put it deep in that throat," you tell Yujin, who quickly obliges, pushing your throbbing cock deeper and deeper into her mouth, Wonyoung watching and smiling as her friend gags all over your cock.

"That's right, just like that," Wonyoung says to Yujin as she finishes deepthroating your cock, so addicted she keeps your cock glued to her mouth even after it. "Keep going," Wonyoung tells her as she stretches Yujin's mouth. "Fit it all in," she says.

Wonyoung takes your cock next, going from the kill right from the start. "Take it all the way down," Yujin orders to her as Wonyoung gets sloppier and sloppier trying to deepthroat that long and thick meat. Like everything in her life, lucky Vicky easily succeeds, saliva running down her mouth as she then follows it taking on your balls and letting Yujin handle your shaft by herself.

"Take on those balls," you command to Wonyoung, who sucks them like crazy, before moving up and taking more turns on your shaft. "Such a naughty boy, cheating on your girlfriend on Valentine's Day," Wonyoung says, noticing the ring on your finger before diving back on your pole. "She's so fucking good sucking that cock," Yujin praises Wonyoung, who gets louder and louder sucking that shaft, making you glad they turned up the music and didn't let all that noise get out of the room.

"There you fucking go, such a hungry slut, leave some for me," Yujin says to Wonyoung as she tries to match her young friend's high intensity. You love those girls' attitudes, sensing the healthy competition building between them to see who's the best cocksucker, each one ramping up the intensity after the other girl finishes her turn.

"Choke on that cock, keep going," Wonyoung pushes Yujin to her limit as she spits all over your cock. "Oh that's so nice," you say as both girls take turns popping your cock in and out of their mouths and spit all over the tip. "So fucking yummy," Yujin says.

But Wonyoung just seems to be on a different rotation, deepthroating your cock again with ease. Lucky Vicky turns you into the luckiest guy in the world, as you're able to see her blossom into a full-fledged cockslut in front of your eyes, asking for more and more of that fat pole the more she takes it. "She is so good at it, isn't she?" Yujin asks as Wonyoung puts you on the edge, her deepthroat making your legs shake nonstop as you use all four forces not to pop in that beautiful sexy mouth of hers.

Yujin just moves to the side as she watches Wonyoung give you a mind-blowing blowjob. You thought your girlfriend was really good at sucking your cock, but now she's going to look tame compared to what Wonyoung does to it, submitting it fully to her control and not sparing a single inch from her fast-paced licking and sucking, showing she's a world-class talent in everything she does.

The next two minutes are by far the longest of your lives. Wonyoung just does everything she wants to your cock, spitting, sucking, throating, drooling all over it like crazy, turning your shaft into a throbbing mess full of her saliva.

Wonyoung finishes her turn with a crazy deepthroat as Yujin shoves her head against your cok. "Choke on that fucking cock," Yujin tells her, as Wonyoung decides to be unselfish, letting Yujin handle your cock as both of you get on your knees, sharing kisses as you taste her cock-filled mouth while Yujin bobs her head on your shaft on all fours. Suck that cock for us," Wonyoung tells her.

Wonyoung lines up behind Yujin, eating her friend's pussy while she chokes on your cock, forming a sexy oral train. Yujin moans as Wonyoung perfectly tongue her cunt, but it gets muffled as your big shaft stretches her mouth out.

"AHHHHH YEAH, YEAH. FUCK MY MOUTH AND EAT MY PUSSY, OH MY GOD," Yujin screams as she's pleased by both sides. You push your cock up her face as Wonyoung grabs her friend's hair. "That's right, fuck her mouth," she tells you, burying her face between Yujin's fat ass cheeks, shaking them left and right while her friend salivates all over your cock.

"Are you ready to see the gates of heaven?" Wonyoung asks you as she sits in one of the gym's equipment and pulls her shorts to the side, exposing her beautiful pink pussy. Yujin quickly kneels and starts eating it out. "You like what you see? Then get over here." Wonyoung commands as she pushes you in her direction.

"I know you want a taste of that pussy, everybody does," Wonyoung tells you, showcasing her self-confidence as you dive your head right into her pussy. "Is it better than your girlfriend's? Ahhhhhh" Wonyoung asks as she starts moaning.

Wonyoung can't hide how ecstatic she is, moving her hips and grinding on your face as you eat her pussy. "Does it taste good?" she asks you as you share kisses with Yujin, both their mouths now full of her pussy. "Looks like it tastes very good by the way you are kissing her," Wonyoung says as Yujin and you lick it together. "OH MY GOD," Wonyoung suddenly moans as you and Yujin start eating her pussy together. "So fucking sweet," Yujin says.

"Are you ready for that pussy to squeeze that big fat cock?" Wonyoung asks you as she strokes your cock, teasing it close to her entrance before she slowly drives it into her pussy. "Put that cock nice and slow, AHHHHH," she suddenly screams as your thick length gets inside her, closing her eyes as she slowly descends down it.

"Such a fucking big cock, OH MY GOD," Wonyoung tells you. But quickly, she shows why she's one of the best, bouncing on it with ease despite your massive length. "OH FUCK," she moans, squatting on your cock. "Fuck his big cock just like that," Yujin incentivizes her.

As soon as Yujin says those words, Wonyoung quickly flips a switch. You soon get introduced to her insane riding, her moving her hips in a very fast-paced manner and spinning on your cock as she moans loudly. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," she freely screams with her doll voice, knowing that no one will be able to hear it. "That's so fucking hot," Yujin says as Wonyoung picks up even more speed, riding you like an Amazon while Yujin spanks her cute ass.

"Use that fucking cock," Yujin commands to Wonyoung as she keeps performing powerful bounces on your cock, tilting her body forward to eat Yujin's pussy as her friend sits her fat ass in your face. "FUCK, YES, YES, YES, AHHHH," she loudly screams again, Yujin smiling as she enjoys her friend being a cockslut. "Bounce all over his cock, cum all over it," Yujin commands.

The room is quickly filled with tons of screaming and moaning. "I'm gonna rub this pussy all over your mouth, baby boy," Yujin says as she grinds on your face while Wonyoung keeps spinning hard on your cock, before following it with hard squats that make loud sounds as her butt hits your hips. "This is such good exercise, FUCK," she says, enjoying using your body as an absorber to her squatting.

"I'M GONNA CUM," Wonyoung announces as she squirts all over your cock, Yujin quickly comes in and takes it in her mouth as soon as Wonyoung pulls it out of her pussy. "Your fucking pussy tastes so good," Yujin says as she lets Wonyoung choke on your cock as well.

"Girls, come here," you tell Yujin and Wonyoung, who comes first and lies on top of the gym equipment, with Yujin then stacking on top of her. You spread Yujin's long legs and put your cock in her pussy, Wonyoung's pretty face all over your shaft and balls. "FUCK IT'S SUCH A BIG COCK, HOLY SHIT," Yujin says as she rolls her eyes.

"FUCK, THAT COCK STRETCHES ME OUT SO GOOD," Yujin says as you split her cunt in half, pounding her hard as your balls clap against her big ass and swing all over Wonyoung's face. "That's right, let him use that pussy," Wonyoung tells her.

"USE THAT FUCKING PUSSY, USE THAT TIGHT LITTLE FUCKHOLE, AHHHH, AHHHH" Yujin begs as Wonyoung tongues her clit and you grope her tits. Her tight pussy leads you to feed your cock to Wonyoung, letting her get it wetter for you to reach deeper in her cunt. "OHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH," Yujin screams as you give her big ass some nice spanks, Wonyoung now with her tongue fully out in her friend's cunt.

"Eat her pussy," you command to Yujin, who tilts her body down as she and Wonyoung 69 each other while you drill the older girl's meaty cunt. "FUCK," Yujin keeps screaming as you spank her ass nonstop, clinging to licking Wonyoung's pussy as you stretch her out. "OH, THAT FEELS SO GOOD IN MY PUSSY," Yujin moans as she fingers Wonyoung's wet pussy, raising up so Wonyoung can do the same.

"FUCK, YOU'RE SO DEEP, I CAN FEEL IT IN MY FUCKING STOMACH," Yujin tells you as Wounyoung reaches to lick her friend's belly as if she was licking your cock bulging under it. "KEEP GOING BABY, USE THAT FUCKING PUSSY, I LOVE THIS COCK SO MUCH," Yujin continues.

"Put it in my butt too," Yujin begs. "Ohhh, I'd love watching that big fat cock up my friend's ass," Wonyoung says. "AHHHHHHH," Yujin screams and rolls her eyes as you anally penetrate her. "OH SHIT, IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD IN MY BUTT," she tells you as your cock tries to dig deeper in her tight asshole, Wonyoung increasing the speed of her lickings as well.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, AH, AH, AH, AH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH" Yujin can't stop moaning as she gets anally drilled. "DON'T STOP BABY, YES, FUCK THAT ASS HARD," she begs, Wonyoung smiling under her, especially when you give her your cock to taste her best friend's dirty butthole. Yujin presses her tits against Wonyoung's tall body while she eats her friend's pussy, trying to cope with your long and fat cock stretching her tiny anus. "AHHHHH, IT'S SO FUCKING AMAZING, FUCK," she screams.

"Cum, cum, cum for me all over that cock," Wonyoung tells Yujin. "FUCK, FUCK, I'M CUMMING," Yujin says as her long legs shake and she bursts all over Wonyoung's face. "Fuck yeah, so tasty," Wonyoung says, using her mouth to suck all the juices from it. "Your turn Yujinie, take all that cock, take it all in your fucking throat," Wonyoung tells her as Yujin gets on her knees, her younger friend quickly grabbing her head and shoving it against your shaft.

"That's right, fucking take it," Wonyoung says. "He loves that so much," Yujin says as she gags on your cock. " What a lucky day. That's so fucking unreal, having both of you suck my cock like that," you say to the girls as they move to the side of your shaft and lick it together. "Get up," you tell Wonyoung, sharing kisses with her while Yujin stays on her knees sucking that cock. "Oh yeah, so good, I love watching it," you tell her.

"Now it's your turn to get up," you tell Yujin as you start sucking her perky tits, leaving Wonyoung alone to bob her head on your throbbing shaft. "Your thighs are so fucking sexy," you tell Yujin while you touch her ass and play with her boobs.

"Come here, let me do something," you instruct Yujin, sliding your big fat cock between her honey thighs. Wonyoung immediately dives her face at Yujin's bottom as your cock starts humping and rubbing against her friend's legs. Wonyoung quickly understands her assignment, not letting your tip breathe, sucking it as it pops out of Yujin's thicc lower body.

You pick up the speed, humping your cock hard against Yujin's thicc thighs. "Perfect, just like that," you tell her, hugging Yujin's body hard up top while Wonyoung hugs your cock hard with her mouth at the bottom.

"Suck that cock," you tell Wonyoung as you spread Yujin's cheeks, giving her friend a larger chunk of your shaft to take in her mouth. "Oh fuck, what a good cockslut," you say as you fuck Wonyoung's face and Yujin's thighs at the same time, pumping harder than ever as both girls moan sexily.

"Get on all fours on the floor," you tell both Yujin and Wonyoung as they grab a pair of gym mats for themselves. "FUCKKKKK," Wonyoung quickly gets shocked as you unseriously shove your cock up her ass. "Fuck, that shit is so tight," you tell her, struggling to fit your thick cock in her little butthole.

But you won't give up so easily, taking your time on Wonyoung's pussy while you stretch her little asshole out with your thumb. "Yes, baby, shove it in my ass," she tells you. Yujin bounces her butt in anticipation and thumbs her own asshole as you drill Wonyoung's pussy.

You switch to Yujin's pussy next, Wonyoung giving you a helping hand as she now fingers her friend's butthole. "That feels so good," Yujin says enjoying the massage your cock and Wonyoung's fingers provide her. You kiss Wonyoung and choke her neck as you switch to Yujin's asshole. "Spread it open," you tell Wonyoung.

"OH FUCK, THAT'S SO FUCKING AMAZING," Yujin screams as you pound her ass. "Just thrust like your life depends on it," Wonyoung says, smiling as she watches her friend get her asshole stretched out. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, LIKE THAT, LIKE THAT," Yujin begs, you switching from her ass to her pussy nonstop, letting Wonyoung taste your cock once you're done. "My friend tastes so dirty, that's the flavor of a nasty slut," Wonyoung says.

You turn your attention back to Wonyoung as you stretch her pussy out, making her sexily moan. "Good girl," you tell her, giving a spank to Wony's ass and then switching back to her butt. "AHHHHHH," she screams again, shocked by your size, but as soon as she adjusts, takes it like a champion. "GOD THAT'S SUCH A BIG FUCKING COCK," she tells you.

"Then let me push it deeper," you tell Wonyoung as her asshole winks begging for it. You finally manage to break the resistance, taking it all the way up her ass. "YES, FUCK, FUCK," Wonyoung screams. "I still remember when you weren't that into anal," Yujin says. "Now you taking 10-inch monsters up that ass, no wonder you've been doing so many glute workouts lately," she continues.

"OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Wonyoung keeps moaning hard as you choke her and print the shape of your cock in her now stretched butthole. You switch back and forth between her and Yujin, drilling their asses as hard as you can. "OH YES, OH YES, FUCK THAT BUTT," Yujin moans. Wonyoung grabs your cock, adding the right amount of saliva for you to fuck her best friend. "PUSH IT HARDER IN MY ASS, FUCK YEAH," Yujin begs.

You switch back to Yujin's pussy a bit, but she's so overwhelmed she soon squirts. "FUCKKKKK," Yujin screams as her juices flow into the gym mat. You grab Wonyoung's princess head, shoving your cock unceremoniously in her mouth and stuffing her face hard. "Taste those fucking juices, bitch," you tell her, Wonyoung rolling her eyes as you turn her mouth into your cocksleeve.

"I love watching you fuck her ass," Wonyoung tells you. "How about I fuck that pussy a little more?" you ask her, putting Wonyoung back on all fours and pounding her cunt from behind, Yujin coming in to massage her friend's butthole. "OH FUCKKKK," Wonyoung moans, Yujin ready to taste her pussy at all moments and providing you the right amount of spit for you to drill it. "HMMMM, HMMMM, HMMM," Wonyoung moans, Yujin now with her filthy hands all over her clit as well.

Yujin grabs your cock and pushes in Wonyoung's ass direction again, spreading her best friend's cheeks. "Look at her, taking this workout like a champion," Yujin says as you stretch Wonyoung's butthole hard while Yujin takes care of her pussy. "AHHHH, FUCK, FUCK," Wonyoung screams.

"Let's do some squats, work those glutes," Wonyoung says as she drops you to the floor and starts spinning her ass on your cock. "Fucking wear this ass out," she begs, rotating all over your cock. Yujin sits on your face as Wonyoung starts bouncing her ass on your cock. "YEAHHHHH," Wonyoung screams, Wonyoung watching her best friend turning into an anal whore. "That's so hot, working that fucking cock," Yujin commands.

Wonyoung grinds her ass on your cock while Yujin suffocates you with her pussy. "I LOVE THAT GIANT COCK IN MY BUTT," the younger girl says, using you as her personal workout machine, moving her hips fast and doing straight squats on your cock while Yujin squirts on your face and you grope her tits. "OH YEAH, FUCK," Wonyoung moans as she bounces on your cock.

You couldn't feel much better now as you savor Yujin's pussy. Wonyoung is so excited she almost falls down riding your cock, switching into an anal reverse cowgirl position and filling the room with loud moans. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," she keeps repeating. Yujin tries to match Wonyoung's ride, doing squats in your face with her pussy. Your legs tremble, Wonyoung's tight asshole working your cock out at a really fast pace as she enjoys her anal workout, holding into one of the supports in the room.

You keep yourself entertained with Yujin's tits and pussy as Wonyoung keeps using your cock like a piece of workout equipment, moving her ass up and down it faster than ever. "Let me squat on it too," Yujin asks as the girl switch positions, Yujin taking your cock in her pussy and spreading her legs while you eat Wonyoung's heavenly cunt, the two girls sharing sexy stares with each other, Wonyoung laughing as you finger her clit and tongue her pussy.

Yujin picks up the speed, moving on your cock sideways and spinning on it while you put Wonyoung on the verge of cumming, her legs shaking with the clit massage you give her. "FUCK," both girls scream together, Yujin making good work of your pole while you make good work of Wony's little clit. "DON'T STOP, YOUR TONGUE AND CLIT FEEL SO FUCKING GOOD, I'M GONNA CUM," Wonyoung says as she squirts all over your face.

Yujin bends over and starts sucking your cock, Wonyoung getting behind her and eating her best friend's ass as she bobs her head on your cock and tests her body stretching capabilities. You push Yujin's head against your shaft and pump your cock up her mouth, making it as hard as possible for her not to gag on it as she tries to resist the pressure you put in her mouth. "Yes, baby, gag on that cock," you tell her, Wonyoung coming right beside her to suck your balls.

But Yujin manages to resist, taking control and bouncing her face on your cock with ease. "Put it back in my pussy," she says, getting on all fours again on the gym mat.

"PLEASE, I WANT TO FEEL IT IN MY STOMACH, AHHHH" Yujin pleads as you stick your cock back in her cunt, enjoying the bulge it creates under her belly. Wonyoung adds some spit. "I fucking love it," Yujin says. "Show me how good you take it," Wonyoung says. "I want to take this cock deep in my pussy like a good fucking whore," Yujin says as she moans. "That's right," Wonyoung compliments her.

You and Wonyoung share kisses as you turn Yujin into a cocksleeve. "FUCK," the puppy girl screams as Wonyoung spanks her ass. "FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME," Yujin keeps begging as her pussy gets more and more stretched out. "I WANT MORE, I WANT MORE," Yujin begs. "Such a good girl taking that big fat cock," Wonyoung tells her.

"It's so deep, isn't it, tell me how deep it is inside you?" Wonyoung asks Yujin. "ALL THE WAY IN MY FUCKING STOMACH," she answers. "Does that little pussy feel good gripping on that cock?" Wonyoung asks you. "Ahhhh, ahhhhh, oh my god," Yujin moans as Wonyoung spreads her ass, before moving in her direction to kiss her. "So good," Yujin says. "Such a good cocksleeve," Wonyoung tells her.

"YES POUND ME, BABY, POUND ME, DROP THAT FUCKING COCK IN ME" Yujin begs as she rests her head on Wonyoung's tits. "AHHHH, YEAH, YEAH, WRECK MY FUCKING PUSSY," she begs as she sucks Wony's boobs. "Look how much she likes that cock," Wonyoung says to you. "I'M GONNA CUM," Yujin says, rubbing Wonyoung's pussy and moving her hips hard against your cock. "You feel that pussy cumming? Creaming all over your fucking cock? That's right" Wonyoung says as Yujin squirts on your dick.

Yujin quickly shoves you back on the floor, then bends over and deepthroating your cock. Wonyoung lines behind her, grinding her pussy against her friend's fukholes while Yujin chokes on your dick. "OH YEAH RUB MY PUSSY," Yujin begs as she spits all over your cock before she starts squatting on it with her fat ass. Wonyoung stays behind her, gripping her mouth all over your balls as Yujin's big butt hits her pretty face at each squat.

"OH THAT COCK IS AMAZING DEEP IN MY ASS," Yujin screams as she bounces all over it. "OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," she keeps moaning, you reaching her hands to grope her bouncy boobs, Wonyoung remains glued to your balls, Yujin humping her ass all over that cock, before doing some more acrobatic sucking and running towards one of the room's pieces of equipment and clinging herself onto it.

"Bounce that ass on that cock, come on, be a good girl," Wonyoung tells Yujin as she pushes her friend's body down your cock. "YEAH, YEAH," Yujin screams. Wonyoung "Look how well she knows how to work on that cock," Wonyoung says as she keeps pushing Yujin to squat harder on it, making loud noises as her fat cheeks clap against your hips. "Yes, perfect, grind on that cock, keep taking it" WOnyoung keeps incentivizing Yujin with a big smile on her face.

"Come fuck me here," Yujin commands. You quickly follow, lifting one of her long, thicc legs and putting your cock back in her pussy. Wonyoung slides under both your bodies, reaching to eat her friend's pussy. "Oh, that's so good, ahhhh, fuck," Yujin moans as your cock stretches her cunt and Wonyoung tongues it. Wonyoung then moves and grabs Yujin's tits, sucking them as you rail her cunt, Yujin trying to stay up in just one leg. "FUCK, YES, YES, YES, I WANT MORE, I WANT MORE" she screams.

"Put it back in my ass," Yujin commands and you quickly oblige, stretching her asshole out as Wonyoung keeps playing with her bouncy boobs and kissing her friend. "Fuck her harder, make those tits bounce, use her ass" Wonyoung instructs you as you give Yujin the perfect anal workout, stretching her legs up in the air. "YEAH, LIKE THAT, LIKE THAT, IT'S SO FUCKING DEEP IN ME" Yujin screams.

You put Yujin back on the ground, fucking her ass from behind as Wonyoung helps spank her friend's but. "FUCK, THAT'S SO FUCKING PERFECT, YESSS," Yujin screams as she starts running out of steam, you eventually pulling out of her ass. Wonyoung is there immediately to impale her face in your big rod, tasting her friend's dirty and sweaty asshole straight from it, jerking your cock off hard, and savoring it to perfection.

"It's my turn now, I want that cock to myself, give it to me," Wonyoung says as she takes Yujin's place, spreading her right leg wide as you get ready to put your cock in her ass. "That's right, spit all over that fucking cock," she tells Yujin as she wets your cock before it goes up Wony's butt. "OH FUCK, THAT'S BIG," she says, always surprised with your size no matter how many times it goes in her ass.

"I want you to rub that ass on my face while he fucks me," Wonyoung commands to Yujin, who promptly obliges, grinding her butt all over Wonyoung's pretty face as your hard thrusts push it against Yujin's ass. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Wonyoung screams as she clings to Yujin's ass. "That's right, that's right, stretch that fucking ass," she begs, reaching to finger Yujin's clit and thumb her asshole.

But Wonyoung is no pushover, as she starts moving her hips to meet your cock thrusting up her ass. "SO FUCKING DEEP, I LOVE IT," she says. You slow down as Yujin moves into Wonyoung's pussy and licks it now. "OHHHHH, FUCK THAT FEELS GOOD" Wonyoung moans as her best friend intensely tongues her folds.

"GIVE ME ALL, GIVE ME ALL," Wonyoung begs as you pound her asshole into oblivion, Yujin staying glued to her pussy. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," she moans louder than ever, both of you teaming up on her for maximum pleasure, "YES, STRETCH ME OPEN, STRETCH ME OPEN, FUCKKKK, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH," Wonyoung turns into a screaming mess, using all her strength to cope with your hard thrusts up her backdoor.

"Put it in my pussy and don't pull out until you fill that up, you understand?" Wonyoung asks you as you switch between her holes. Yujin fingers Wonyoung's little clit, making her squeeze your cock even harder as she prepares to make you cum at any instant.

"Fucking use me, use me, OH FUCK, AHHHH, JUST LIKE THAT, DON'T FUCKING STOP, MAKE MY PUSSY CUM" Wonyoung begs. "Drill that slutty pussy," Yujin orders as you have your sights fully fixated on filling Wonyoung at any second.

"Fuck her hard, fuck her hard," Yujin commands as you attack Wonyoung's pissy. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, TAKE THAT COCK DEEP INSIDE ME" Wonyoung screams louder than ever as you clap her cheeks hard. "That's so fucking hot," Yujin says, tapping her friend's ass.

"Fill me up, fill me up with your cum, I want you to cum for me" Wonyoung begs. Yujin tongues your shaft hard as you drill Wonyoung's tight cunt, not sparing a single inch of it. "I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING, FUCK," Wonyoung screams as her walls clench hard over your cock, her smiling sensing you're getting closer.

You grab Wonyoung's body and pound her harder than ever. "Please, baby, fill that pussy with your cum," she continues to beg, you giving her faster and faster thrusts, her legs fully spread over the equipment, shaking harder than ever. You accidentally put your cock in her ass after it pushes out of her pussy, before switching it back. "Cum inside me, cum inside me, please, please, please, YES, YES, YES" Wonyoung continues to beg.

"AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," you start groaning as you pump your seeds deep inside Wonyoung's pink pussy. You just couldn't believe it, but you were filling Korea's it girl to the brim. As your cock pops out of it, Yujin is right there to lick her friend's dripping cunt, tasting your cum from it. "It tastes like cherry," Yujin says as the flavor of your cum and of Wonyoung's pussy mix with each other.

You look and admire Yujin eating Wonyoung's pussy out as both girls kiss each other and swap your cum. "Oh my God, this was the best day of my life," you tell them. "I don't think your girlfriend can do that," Wonyoung says as you three lie on the floor and talk to each other.

Yujin and Wonyoung smile as they do a few squats while naked, laughing and giggling a lot. "Are we doing it right, baby?" Yujin asks you. "Definitely," you answer them.

You three get your clothes back on as you go back to your regular work and Yujin and Wonyoung leave the VIP room. "We won't be at the gym again this week, lots of performances coming up, do you want to watch one of our music show performances this week?" Wonyoung asks.

"Sure," you answer her.

"Good, I can't wait for us to have sex backstage," Yujin says as both girls leave the room.

A bonus fic for ya. I could no longer resist writing an Annyeongz smut and their fit legs as of lately gave me the perfect excuse.

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

I was going to put this in the tags but it's long enough and a direct response that I think I should just add it here.

Yes, to all of this, unironically and unhesitatingly.

For what it's worth for everything I'm about to say, I am a licensed social worker and am currently employed as a mental health clinician. But I have not done any research on this personally and don't have sources at the moment to back this theory up (im going to look into that today actually. I'm curious to see what I find.) This is just all speculation from a professional, so take that for what it's worth. I'll try to add some sources later when I'm not on mobile.

See I agree with what was stated up above about anxiety and depression. I also think its possible it could apply to diagnoses considered less "general," like adhd.

Example. I was recently diagnosed with adhd. The only reason I bothered to pursue the diagnosis was because it was impacting my ability to function throughout my day, and I wanted to try medication. (Personally, I think those are the only times you really should pursue a professional diagnosis, but that's a separate conversation...)

The most notable complaints I had about what I was experiencing were:

- struggling to focus on one task instead of bouncing around between everything on my to do list

- getting overwhelmed and paralyzed from the amount of thoughts and tasks that were in front of me

- struggling to stay on a task that requires my full focus (like reading) because I simply can't give that task my full attention

- conversely, going too long engaging in one task (usually a preferred relaxation task) and neglecting other parts of my life. This typically happens for me on weekends, when I'm trying to play video games instead of think about work.

There are other symptoms that I qualify with, like interrupting people (or struggling not to), being physically jittery and fidgety, being easily angered when certain things happen, etc.

For me, a lot of this ties back to - and was made most clear by - the amount of tasks I have to regularly engage in in my life, and my difficulty keeping up with it all and functioning effectively through it.

Now on one hand, the DSM V is written with a focus on symptoms that interfere with life functioning. And things that stop necessary tasks from being completed tend to fuck our lives up more than something that makes us a little too talkative or fidgety.

But also. And I will say this again and again and again.

A diagnosis is a tool and label. Not a law of the universe. Not a cause. It is a human attempt at categorization of known symptoms, with the intention of relating to effective treatments.

(And that^^^ is something you'll learn from any decent psych 101 class. Mine wasn't decent and I had to go a few classes beyond before we actually started framing it that way.)

With that in mind. Here's a question.

Is my adhd just innate within me, and something that would have been there, regardless of what my life looked like? Is it a specific way my brain deviates from the "norm," and something that, with the right technology and testing, could have been detected and diagnosed without my even noticing any symptoms? Something that exists in a vaccuum without touching my other diagnoses of anxiety and depression?

Or. Is it maybe just a quick and easy way of saying "this person cannot keep up with the stimuli in their life without becoming overwhelmed. And it is effecting their functioning to a notable degree"

That second option is a gross oversimplification, but I hope you take a second to sit with how much the first option sounds like eugenics. If the problem is innate within you, then if we just improve our technology enough to detect it in everyone who has it and separate them from the "norm," then we can weed out the problem, right? Okay, Elon.

How much of my adhd could be a culmination of the fact that I'm overwhelmed with stimuli 24/7 and have lost my ability to focus effectively because of it? How much of my clients' adhd could be a result of the same, possibly combined with the fact that many of them have experienced or are currently experiencing trauma? Which is known to impact ability to focus on tasks, as well as create a hyperactive body system?

This isn't to say adhd is a bogus diagnosis. The same way that the anxiety and depression we experience within our current world state is also not a bogus diagnosis. We're still experiencing it. We still fit the diagnostic criteria. And treatment still helps.

My point of all this is, yes to what's above. And also, maybe it would be good to reframe the ways we view diagnosis in general, to take it a step further, and to recognize the very clear and present causes of what a lot of people are experiencing nowadays. In my opinion, it goes beyond anxiety and depression.

(Also. For the people saying you'll go nuts if you aren't busy. Take a look at why that is. Is that a sustainable way of living? Are you comfortable just existing as yourself? Are you trying to distract yourself from something, or avoiding something uncomfortable? Have you possibly adapted well to the pressure of being constantly busy? Think about it from a different angle)

[smuttysabina]

AriaSaki Earns Some Mortgage Money

(Aria Saki x Male Reader, 5.3K Words) Tags: Prostitution, Regrets from selling your body, Getting off to selling your body, Unexpected creampies, Vaginal and Oral Sex, Tittyfucking, She really should just release an Onlyfans, No handholding, Protected Sex (lol)

AriaSaki looks glumly at her computer screen, her eyes glazed over as she wracks her brain for some way out of her current predicament; her mortgage. Who knew something so mundane could bring so much stress? How was Aria supposed to have known that her org contract would fall through literally right after she bought herself a house! So she had spent the last year streaming constantly, doing everything she could to make her monthly payments, going live for days on end to try and make it through another pay period. I mean sure, she had also been splurging on pets, oh and on Pokemon cards, and on figurines, and... um well lots of things actually. But now Aria was truly struggling to keep up, and she had no idea how to make things better. She had spent her early years as a cumdump for LCS players, before transitioning to helping the nascent OTV group around the house, and then finally moving to streaming fulltime herself; aside from her cooking skills, she didn't have much to make a living with if streaming fell through. Well, there was one asset she still had left, but her parents would disown her if she started an Onlyfans to show off her voluptuous body to her fans; so she couldn't do that! Even that slut Jaime was coy about openly showing herself off, she would just tease on camera but keep the juicy stuff for her rich benefactors... Wait a minute, if Aria couldn't sell her body online, what if she could sell it in person?

Aria shudders in revulsion, was she seriously considering prostituting herself for some easy cash? Yes, yes she was...

You had always enjoyed perusing the escort listings, imagining yourself with the girls on display, stroking furiously to the thought of spending your hard earned cash on the chance to cum inside a woman. Of course, you had never actually paid to sleep with a prostitute, it was just arousing to browse and fantasize, especially since some of the girl's prices were nothing short of absurd. You nearly choke on your own spit as you read one listing, ten-thousand dollars for only one hour! At that price you might as well rent her for a whole year, and though her body was nicely shaped, there was no way she could possibly be worth so much. You shake your head in disbelief, what sort of moron would burn so much money on a simple fling? Probably just some rich brats who didn't know any better, and the escort's face was even blurred out as well, this was more likely than not just a scam. But that haircut did look oddly familiar... Frowning, you scrutinize the few pictures the lady of the night had on display, realization scratching at the rear of your brain as your mind attempts to connect the dots it had been given. You had seen her before, you were sure of it, though from where... You continue to beat your meat even as you drink in the sight of those saggy tits framed by that severe hime haircut, a sense of deja-vu filling you as you discern that you had masturbated to this view before. Your eyes boggle as realization finally dawns, perhaps $10,000 an hour was not too steep a price to pay after all...

Almost a week later, and you found yourself standing in front of an upscale hotel room door. If anything, the past week of paperwork and extensive background checks had left you even more convinced that the girl you were about to meet was in fact AriaSaki. You had signed no less than five separate NDAs, each more strictly worded than the last and filled to the brim with draconian punishments should you even think about this encounter in public. And the fact that she had dredged up drama from back in middle school to confront you about indicated that this was someone with a paranoid streak more than a little wide. The fact that the hourly rate was so obscenely high also was a glaring indicator, Aria had always been wont to splurge, and so probably was looking to buy all sorts of expensive junk to hoard. So you continue to wait awkwardly in front of the door, having knocked several times already, with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you had somehow been scammed and that this entire endeavor had been a complete waste of time. But before you turn to leave with a heavy heart, several loud clunks sound from the entryway, and the door opens a smidgen, allowing an elegant hand to reach from the darkness within and frantically beckon you inside.

You gingerly push open the door, stepping past the lady into the gloomily lit interior, before it is shut behind you and thoroughly locked. You turn to examine her, but she hurries past you into the hotel room, before collecting herself with a huff, clearly she was as nervous about this as you were. In the dim lighting you strain to make out her features, her face concealed behind a dark facemask with her olive-shaped eyes peering out above it; her hair was shorter than in her photos, but it matched how Aria's hair had looked on stream recently. Her voluptuous body was tightly constrained by a sleek black dress, showing off her noticeable curves without making her look like, well, a whore. The woman coughs before speaking in a rather familiar voice, "Okay, so before we do anything, you're going to need to transfer the money over to my account," she holds out her phone, with her bank account's QR showing on the screen. You dutifully pull up her account on your payment app, hesitating a moment before tapping in the desired amount to transfer. $20,000 might take a while to work off, but it would certainly be worth it... The girl sighs in disbelief as the notification pops up on her phone, "Wow. So this is for... two hours then? Whew!" she appears to hyperventilate for a moment before calming down and giving you a nod, and slowly undoes her mask to full reveal the face of your favorite streamer: AriaSaki

Aria grimaces awkwardly at you, "Okay, so I have never done this before so, um, I guess let's get this over with then?" She starts walking towards the bed before whirling, "Wait! Okay, um, so no anal, no oral, no kissing, don't ejaculate on me, I won't give you a blowjob, and you have to use a condom at all times, got it?" She glares sternly at you before you agree fully to her terms, and only then does she stalk towards her bed, grabbing a plastic tray from the nightstand and placing it beside her as she clambers onto the mattress. Aria gets on her hands and knees, her back inexpertly arched as she looks back at you in trepidation, "Um, I don't know how large your... penis is, so there's a bunch of different sizes in the tray. Oh! And lube." Then she waits, studiously ignoring you as you undress, and she twitches nervously as you climb onto the bed behind her. Feeling a little let down by the lack of intimacy, you nonetheless find your manhood fully interested in the situation, and you rummage through the tray before finding the correct size to cover it. Your cock's enthusiasm remains undiminished even after sheathing it in cool latex, and you crawl forward on your knees until you are in position behind the streamer. Aria flinches when you pull her dress up over her waist, revealing her pale ass that neatly compliments her juicy thighs; and nestled between her cheeks was the thing you had been lusting after for years.

AriaSaki's pussy was a deep brown, its sunken shape endowed with some sizable lips that were no doubt the reason her camel-toe showed up so easily. And of course, like the lovable gamer gremlin that she was, she had obviously not bothered to shave in several weeks; well at least she had showered recently, you had been somewhat worried she would not have... Aria stirs nervously, "Are you done looking at me, are you not going to stick it in?" Remembering her warning, you apply a hefty dollop of lube to your dick before grasping her waist with one hand to hold her steady as you guide yourself in. Your tip presses against her folds before angling upwards enough to find her entrance, slipping suddenly inside of Aria's hole and causing her to jolt in surprise. Aria lets out a despairing groan as your cock fills her pussy, "I cannot fucking believe I'm actually doing this right now..." Whatever reservations Aria might be feeling went ignored by you as the sordid heat of her cunt can be felt even through the condom, and the pressure of her folds around her shaft had your eyes rolling. The streamer placidly stays in position as you thrust away at her rear, her lack of enthusiasm not bothering you in the slightest due to how excited you were to be fucking AriaSaki herself! This truly was a wet dream come true...

The steady slap of flesh fills the room as you plow Aria's bent-over form, the streamer gasping and groaning in a mixture of disgust and natural pleasure; her pussy cared not a whit about the moral implications of this coupling, merely that it was being filled. So as you continue to fuck her, the wet squelching noises that accompanied your sex seem to be growing louder with every passing minute, until... Until you can't hold on any longer, and with a moan you clutch at the streamer's waist as you thrust as deep as possible inside of her, your cock pulsating with pleasure as it fills the condom with semen. Aria gasps at your sudden motion, her butt clenching rhythmically as her body shudders, and you feel a film of wetness drips down your balls, "Oh my fucking god, did I just... from this?" Aria whines in horror, "What kind of slut climaxes just from some random guy cumming in her?" She buries her face in a pillow and screams into it, her feet drumming against the mattress. Once her tantrum subsides though, a red-faced Aria looks back at you and asks petulantly, "Are you going to pull out, or do I have to feel you going soft inside of me?" With such a bitchy attitude, in your post-coital clarity you were starting to question whether even your favorite was worth nutting inside for 20,000 dollars.

Acceding to Aria's wishes, you gingerly unmount her, allowing your cock to slip out, along with the reservoir of semen dangling from the tip of it. The streamer collapses onto her side, and then gawps when she spots the massive load contained within your condom, "What the heck," she squawks, tentatively poking at the yolk-like mass of jizz hanging from the end of your dick, "That would... that would have all gone... in me?" You blush at Aria's prodding, you had saved up all week for her, but even you were shocked by the sheer quantity of cum you had unloaded for her; and that had been with minimal help from her as well. When you start to remove the condom she stops you though, seemingly mesmerized by what it contains. Aria breathes rapidly, and appears unaware that one of her hands is getting rather busy between her thighs, as her face slowly moves closer to the object of her obsession, "I-I came, I came from this?" Aria's face becomes completely flushed as she masturbates while you watch, "I-I'm a slut!" she gasps out, her fingers furiously churning her cunt, "I'm a prostitute, a fucking whore, oh fuck it feels so good!" Aria's eyes narrow as she drowns her shame in a tide of lust, she knew what she was doing was wrong, and it filled her with a lustful mania to be doing it. She pants as her tongue lolls, and she hesitantly licks the swaying sack of seed, before letting out a sultry groan as she orgasms, her entire body shivering until it passes; and she looks up and gives you a lascivious smile.

AriaSaki reaches up and gently removes your condom for you, though you had grown so flaccid that it was about to fall off anyways, and then to your complete shock, empties it into her mouth. The streamer lets out a muffled moan as your thickening seed fills her mouth, her tongue visibly roiling it around as she savors the harsh taste of your semen. Well savor might perhaps be a touch too strong a word, as Aria gags violently, nearly expelling the load all over the bed before recovering and returning to attempting to swallow it. All the while her finger's continue to be busy stirring her slit, as she fights to overcome her disgust through sheer pleasure; until with a grimace the foul fluid slides down her throat. Aria trembles as yet another round of squelches come from between her shivering thighs, and when she opens her eyes again to stare up at you, her face is a mask of arousal. Her ample chest heaves as she struggles to breathe, "I think... I think I'm down for round two..." Aria glances at your cock and seems unsurprised that it is nearly fully erect once more. Naturally, watching your favorite streamer swallow your cum while masturbating, had indeed made you hard once more, powering through the aftereffects of your first orgasm with gusto.

Aria tentatively grasps your cock, slowly stroking it while judging your reactions, "Are you ready for it again?" she asks, making you nod frantically in affirmation, causing a sultry smile to spread across her lips, "Fuck, I'm ready for it again..." The streamer promptly turns about and bends over once more, though this time her back is lasciviously arched and she spreads her cheeks with both hands. She coughs pointedly when you slap your bare member against her slit however, even lost in a fugue of lust, she still expects you to wear protection. This time when you take Aria from behind, she is far more vocal about it, screeching into the sheets while your cock churns her sopping cunt until it is gushing all down her thighs, wailing for you to fuck her harder. The slap of her surprisingly well-sized cheeks against your crotch echoes around the room as you relentlessly plow her, now you truly felt like you were getting your money's worth pounding away at AriaSaki's sloppy pussy! Her folds tighten greedily around your shaft as you fill her, desperate for the seed that would invariably fill the condom, yet dumbly hungry for it anyways. Your core burning from your efforts, you slow down, switching to slow, long thrusts as you struggle to catch your breath. Aria glances back at you in confusion, tears glistening on her cheeks, "Wait, did you finish already?" she says in exasperation before hearing your frantic denials, "Okay good. Want to swap positions?"

After taking a minute to recover, Aria rolls onto her back and spreads her legs for you, showing off the sopping mess you helped make between her lower lips. She smirks as you lean down to closely examine her pussy, drinking in the details that you missed during your only cursory inspection of it framed by her butt. Aria puts a hand on your head and guides you in, gasping with delight as you dig into her swollen folds, "Oh fuck yes, taste it, fucking eat it!", she quivers delightfully as your tongue laps its way up her slit, "Fuck I cannot believe this feels so good..." By the time you are finished, a fresh slick of juices spills out and soaks her asshole, and she is more than ready, and you more than rested, to continue. With a sleazy grin, Aria pulls her legs back until they are behind her head, her meaty tits squished between them, and her pussy completely vulnerable to your attentions. As you slap your hardening dick against her, you comment on how much she looks like a fleshlight like that, which only seems to excite her even more, "Oh yeah? Does it turn you on thinking I'm just a filthy pocket pussy for you to dump your loads into? That I'm just a whore addicted to random guy's fucking cocks?" she snarls up at you. Well, she said it first...

You mount Aria then and there, slipping your covered cock into her hole and placing yourself atop her thighs, your body weight squishing down onto her in a classic mating press position. Your sex was fantastically intimate, face-to-face as your manhood plunges deep inside of her, it was only natural that you begin to sloppily make out; you had already fucked her twice and this was the first time you had kissed her. Aria's lips were as soft as you had expected, though her tongue was almost off-puttingly aggressive as it forces its way into your mouth. As enjoyable as being pressed against your favorite streamer with her arms locked tightly around you was however, your thighs were already starting to scream from the effort; this position was far more difficult than porn had made it out to be... So after taking a short rest laying on her soft body you reluctantly pull out of her embrace, much to her obvious bemusement at your lack of stamina. You haul Aria to the edge of the bed, her dress dragging against the sheets, bunching uncomfortably up against her breasts and revealing her fertile belly. Who blushes at the reveal of her somewhat pronounced tummy, but she is soon distracted from her gloomy thoughts as you spank her clit with your cock once more.

Now you are able to get more solid thrusts in, while being able to grind your member deep inside of Aria's guts had been quite pleasant, pounding away at her contorted body like a cheap toy was even better. And Aria seems to agree, if her rising voice is any indicator; soon she is howling as loudly as she had been when you had mounted her from behind for the second time. Grasping her sweaty thighs to hold her steady, you relentlessly slam your cock into her sloppy folds, her juices soaking the sheets beneath her as she leaks uncontrollably, "Oh fuck, I'm getting used," Aria groans, "My pussy is getting used like a fucking onahole, why does it feel so good to be a fucking whore?" Her cunt sloshes excitedly, squelching loudly as her entire body starts to quiver, "Fuck, it's happening again! I'm fucking cumming again! Oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck, OH FUCK!" Aria gasps as a stream of fluids gushes out of her pussy, her eyes rolling back as she shudders, squirt spraying with every convulsion as her folds spasm around your shaft. You nearly join her in orgasm, but her shaking is so violent is expels your cock, the streamer unfolding herself and laying on her side until the pleasure surging through her finally subsides. Aria looks blearily up at you, "Fuck... I haven't squirted in like a year... Why am I enjoying this so much?"

Shaking off her reflective lapse in arousal, Aria returns to her cock-hungry state for ignoring the moral implications of selling her body, and needily spreads her legs for you once more. But after that last effort, you were exhausted, sweat slicking your skin while your back and abs scream with soreness, you might need a few minutes... But Aria doesn't have a few minutes to wait and ponder her situation, so instead she orders you back onto the bed, "Okay, just... just lay down, I'll get on top this time..." You are admittedly more than happy to let her take charge, her bossy attitude while streaming had always scratched at a particular itch, and your dick shows its enthusiasm by staying at attention. So you clamber onto the bed and settle down onto your back, your condom-sheathed cock resting stickily upon your chest, the rubber made almost opaque from Aria's juices. The streamer winces as she straddles you, her own legs a touch cramped after spasming while stuck behind her head, but she shows no sign of stopping to stretch out a little. Instead she seems intent on stretching out her pussy some more using your manhood, as she slides salaciously upon it, smearing yet more of her honey onto it. Giving into a whim, you reach up and yank the top of her dress down, allowing one boob to pop out while the other remains awkwardly caught in the tight fabric.

Rolling her eyes, Aria properly pulls her breasts out for you and leans back, allowing you to drink in the sight of her weighty tits sagging down her chest. She seems somewhat self-conscious about showing them off, but you are quick to reassure her by vigorously groping those flesh globes. Aria's thick, brown nipples harden quickly from your attentions, her pillowy boobs so large they are nearly spilling out of your hands, "Geez, you guys always love these so much, don't you?" she sighs, grinding all the harder upon your member, "Fuck, I need it..." Letting you continue to freely maul her tits, Aria squats over your cock, pulling it upright against her folds before sitting on it. You both groan as your dick slides into the familiar warmth of her pussy, the streamer taking it to the hilt and pressing her puffy lower lips against your crotch. Slowly, but swiftly starting to speed up, AriaSaki rides your cock, her thighs pistoning up and down your length with a frantic energy, her juices splattering across your chest with every bounce. Her face is beet ride as she fucks you, before she had been able justify her shameful arousal from letting a stranger use her for money with her passivity, but now that she was on top, she had no excuse to be enjoying this as much as she was, "Oh fuck!" she screams, "I'm a fucking whore! I'm a fucking whore! I'm fucking cumming on some rando's cock like a slut! Fuck, this feels too good!"

A fresh gush of squirt heralds Aria's climax, and she collapses down onto you, shuddering uncontrollably as her cunt floods her brain with pleasure. Your hands fervently roam her back, groping her squishy ass with glee until she recovers enough to continue riding you once more. Her pussy was so wet you could practically feel it slathering your shaft with every bounce, and it's burning heat made it feel as if you were not wearing a condom at all. Aria's messy hair sticks to her sweaty face as she fucks you, her face locked in a paroxysm of lust, "You fucking love it, don't you?" she salaciously licks her lips, "You love watching your favorite streamer turn into a slut for you? You love watching me begging it for it? Fucking give it to me!" she snarls, "I want your fucking cum!" she shrieks as she slams herself down onto you again and again, her folds gripping you like a vice. Having nearly finished twice already, your balls were more than ready to mindlessly empty themselves into this virile slut, and you hold desperately onto her waist as she rides your load out of you; her breasts flopping wildly as she does so. With a loud moan, you creampie AriaSaki, every fresh spurt of cum sending shivers through your body, filling the condom to capacity with your thick seed. The streamer quivers atop you, your sweaty skin stuck together as you both gasp for breath, and you felt as if you had just lost a year of life from orgasming so hard. Aria smiles blearily down at you before her face twists in confusion, "Wait, why is it...?"

Aria scrambles up off of you, hurriedly unmounting you before shoving her fingers into her cunt before dragging out a string of creamy fluid. She looks at the goop coating her fingers in shock, before you both look down at your cock as realization dawns; it turns out you had been feeling her wetness. Several inches of bare skin stands proudly above the yellow wrapping of the torn condom, streaked with your conjoined juices; insufferably proud of itself. Aria gawps at it for several moments before stammering, "Wait wait wait wait, that means... oh gOD YOU CAME IN ME?" she frantically scoops out yet more of your semen, hyperventilating as she processes the scale of this disaster, if it was as big as your last load then... "Oh FUCK," she groans in despair, "Am I gonna get pregnant? Did I really just get knocked up by some random guy?" her fingers stop scooping and instead start churning instead, "Fuck this is so risky! I need to... I need to..." her eyes roll back as she shudders once more, too busy drowning in pleasure to do anything about the unwanted creampie drying in her cunt. Desperate to continue outrunning the inevitable crash, she tears the remains of the condom off before bending down and taking you in her mouth.

Aria throws herself into the blowjob with reckless enthusiasm, her teeth scratching against your shaft while she gags violently from your tip banging against the back of her throat. You wince as your cockhead grinds against her molars, and you hesitantly suggest you take this to the edge of the bed once more...? "Oh, um okay?" Aria looks up at you in confusion, clearly worried that she was doing something wrong. She understands though when you get her to lay on the mattress, her head tilted back over the edge, and her tongue lolls expectantly as you rest your dick against it. Your brain was working overtime to overcome the usual post-climax downtime, and the stimulation from Aria's hole would assist greatly in that. And this time when you fill her mouth, you are easily able to push onwards into her throat. The streamer gurgles as your meat fills her throat, and a noticeable bulge shows in her neck, the sight of which dispels any lingering hesitations. Grunting like a beast, you fuck Aria's face with abandon, your cock roughly stuffing itself down her hole again and again, her Adam's apple bobbing frantically as she struggles to breathe. Spittle pours out of her mouth and erupts out of her nostrils as your balls slap against her nose, running down her forehead and into her hair while she steadily continues to masturbate even as her mouth is getting abused. Her breasts wobble enticingly upon her heaving chest while you relish the warm, wet hole you are fucking, and you know how you want to finish.

You pull out of Aria's mouth, and your dick is soon followed by a fresh gush of spittle that pours down her face as she gasps for air. She hurriedly scoops the frothy fluids out of her eyes as you haul her back onto the bed and clamber onto her chest, and she smirks knowingly as you grope her breasts, "You fucking want-" she coughs, "my fucking tits don't you?" her hands shove yours off of her breasts so she can squish them around your cock, and you start thrusting before she is even able to position it properly. You groan as the soft flesh of her boobs presses in around your shaft, it felt even better than you had fantasized, and you feel your balls quickly rising as you continue to hump her chest. Aria bites her lip and nods frantically, "Oh yeah, you fucking love my boobs, don't you? How many times have you beat your cock to my huge fucking tits?" she leans forward and sticks her tongue out, licking at your tip whenever it peeks out between her fleshy mounds, "I know you fap to me all the time, thinking about me on my knees with my slutty fucking tits out out for you... Yeah? Yeah you fucking do you fucking pervert! Oh fuck! Do it, fucking do it!" You are almost blubbering as you reach your orgasm, desperately fucking AriaSaki's massive breasts while she naughtily urges you on, precum already slopping out down her neck. With a howl you explode between her boobs, your load filling her cleavage before your cock slips out and your next ropes splatter against her open mouth and face. You frantically stroke your dick, working out the last dregs of sperm from you balls as you cover Aria's nipples with thick globs of cum, "Oh fuck yes," Aria exults as you paint her chest with your semen.

Aria happily sucks you clean, and while she does an idea pops into your head that you cannot ignore. You reach for your phone, which surprisingly had not been launched off the bed by your vigorous sex, and the streamer smiles dreamily as you hold it above her. You heart hammers as you drink in the sight through your camera: the famous AriaSaki with your softening cock resting between her tits, her breasts streaked with sweat and lines of cum, throwing up a double peace-sign while her spittle and jizz slathered face was twisted into the most depraved ahegao you had ever seen. It was almost enough to get you hard again, almost. But then Aria's alarm goes off on her phone, and you both glance over at it, realizing that your two hours were up, just in time. The streamer coughs awkwardly, and you scramble off her as she woozily lurches upright, giving you a shell-shocked look as she processes what she had just done. Sure, she was up 20,000 dollars, but now she had a stranger's semen roiling in her stomach, his sperm was wriggling its way into her womb, and his load covered her entire upper body. Aria lets out an exhausted sigh, before giving you a gloomy glare, "I think you should leave now," she says testily, before collapsing back onto the stained sheets. Not wanting to endure her infamous rages (by this point the poor neighbors had probably heard enough screaming already), you hastily dress before departing. And as you leave you hear her groan, "Oh my fucking god, he CAME IN FUCKING PUSSY! NEVER! NEVER AGAIN!", and you promptly slam the door shut to drown out the rest of her enraged shrieks.

A month later and you were at it again, perusing the backpages for hot escorts to masturbate to. Your time spent with Aria if anything had increased your arousal towards escorts, and when you were not pounding one out to her streams or your own memories of your time with her, or even that picture, you were pumping away to images of some lady of the night. Your heart nearly stops though when you come across a familiar advertisement for an insane price, it couldn't be. She said she would never do it again... But when you open it, you see that it was posted recently, and unlike before the description now was for a "No limits prostitute, please get tested so that you can fuck me raw in any way you want, my curvy Asian body is yours to use!" You are shaking as you type out a message, inquiring when she would next be available, and you almost pass out when you receive a response. A lewd selfie of Aria with her tongue sticking out, her arm pushing up her fat tits, precedes the message: "You again? Make sure to get tested this time so you can fuck me bareback properly this time! I love being your nasty little whore..."

Well, it seems like you will be spending the rest of your life ruinously in debt, but at least you will be spending it balls deep inside of AriaSaki's pussy!

[ducktoo]

Again

IVE’s Jang Wonyoung x M!Reader

Note: I have resorted to the sacred prompt list by Anon again….this helped me so much frrr. Hope you will post your first ever fic here so I can tagged you!!

This concludes the unofficial (or official ig) IZ*ONE marathon. @hyeyulenjoyer hope this was a fun ride for you. And thank you everyone for enjoying these fics as well! Also appreciate IVE for paying respect to the recent tragedy. All the dumb haters who find ways to hate them again....just touch grass pls.

(this was the perfect picture for this fic lol)

The tickets sit on your desk, undisturbed, their glossy surface catching the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You don’t even need to read the text printed on them anymore. The details are already burned into your brain.

A fan sign.

It was supposed to be special. The kind of thing you looked forward to for weeks, marked on your calendar with a little star. You were supposed to show up, tease her about messing up choreography, make her laugh in the middle of a serious performance, see that look in her eyes that was just for you.

Now, the tickets feel like a joke.

Your phone is face-down beside them, dark screen hiding the messages you haven't opened yet—the well-meaning texts from friends, the casual work notifications. All messages except from her.

Wonyoung.

You close your eyes, but it doesn't help. The memory of your last call with her is still fresh, the words playing over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

"I just don’t have time for this anymore."

"For us, you mean?"

"Mhm."

The way she said it—calm, measured, like it was just another item to tick off on her to-do list—had made something inside you crack. There had been no anger in her voice. No hesitation.

That…hurt more than anything.

You had wanted to say something, anything to make her stop. To remind her of the nights spent whispering over the phone until she fell asleep, of the rare moments when she let herself be vulnerable with you, of the way she would light up the second she saw you waiting for her backstage to take her to eat a whole cow together.

But you couldn't mutter a voice.

You had just sat there, phone pressed to your ear, fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it threatened to tear.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

It was three days ago.

Three days of checking your phone too often. Three days of convincing yourself you were fine. Three days of staring at these damn tickets on the desk and trying to figure out why you hadn’t just thrown them away. You should sell them. Give them to someone who’d actually enjoy them.

But something stops you.

Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Maybe it’s the stupid, lingering part of you that refuses to admit that she’s really gone. Whatever the reason, you find yourself gripping them tighter instead of throwing them away.

You decided that you will go.

Not for her. Not to see her.

Just so you don’t have to sit in this room, drowning in thoughts of what used to be.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

-

The venue is packed.

Fans shuffle forward in line, their chatter buzzing in the air like static. Excited whispers, rustling light sticks, the occasional squeal when a favourite member’s name is mentioned.

Your fingers tighten around the album in your hands. (Ironically you still hold onto her album)

This is normal for them. For the fans around you, this is just another fan sign. A chance to meet their idols, to share fleeting moments, to walk away with a signature and a memory they’ll cherish for years.

You should feel the same. Instead, you’re just… tired. Who could blame you, you’re about to come face-to-face with your ex-girlfriend.

And she has no idea you’re here.

Your grip on the album tightens as the line inches forward. The first few members greet you with polite smiles, their voices light and bubbly. You do your best to respond normally, but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the inevitable moment that keeps creeping closer and closer.

You don’t need to look up to know she’s at the end of the table. You can feel her presence.

And then, suddenly, there’s no more time left.

Your album slides across the table. Long, slender fingers stop it in place.

There’s a small pause—so brief that no one else seems to notice—but you do. You feel it in the slight delay before she looks up, in the way her fingers tighten just a fraction around the album’s edge.

And then her eyes meet yours.

She looks the same. Flawless, as always. Every strand of hair perfectly in place, makeup soft and ethereal under the bright overhead lights. And those sparkly eyes that you often got lost in.

But…she’s not yours anymore. Not at all.

There was a flicker of something—recognition, surprise, something deeper—crosses her face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

Her lips part slightly, but no words come out at first. Then…

“Hey.”

It’s awkward. Too awkward. You can feel the tension hanging between you, thick and suffocating.

You swallow, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens. “Hey.”

For a split second, she looks like she wants to say something else. Like she wants to break the script, ignore the rehearsed greetings and practiced smiles.

But then—

She doesn’t.

Instead, she picks up her pen, the mask slipping back into place. Her expression evens out, and in a voice so perfectly professional it almost stings, she says,

“Thanks for coming.”

Just like she would to any other fan. That made your stomach twists.

You should’ve known. Of course, she wouldn't acknowledge it. Not here. Not in front of all these people.

Still, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Would’ve been a waste of money if I didn’t.”

Something flickers across her face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. She presses her lips together, nodding slightly. “Right. Can’t have that.”

She signs her name, her handwriting as neat and practiced as always. But there’s a hesitance in the way she moves, a slight delay before she lifts the pen from the page.

When she finally pushes the album back toward you, her fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

Then, in a voice so quiet that only you can hear…

“Take care, okay?”

She’s looking at you now. Really looking at you.

And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, she’s not the Jang Wonyoung, the IT girl, the global superstar.

She’s just…Wonyoung.

The girl who used to call you late at night just to hear your voice.

The girl who used to lace her fingers through yours under the table when no one was looking.

The girl who told you she didn’t have time for you anymore.

You stare at her.

The words stick to your throat. You genuinely don’t trust yourself to say anything.

So you just…don’t.

You just take the album, stand up, and walk away. And even as you disappear into the crowd, you can still feel her eyes on you.

-

You’ve been doing fine.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

It’s been a few days since the fan sign, and you’ve buried yourself in anything that keeps your mind occupied—work, games, mindless scrolling through your phone. Anything to keep yourself from replaying the look on Wonyoung’s face at the fansign. From remembering the way she hesitated before handing your album back. From thinking about the way her gaze kept flickering toward you as you walk away, as if she was looking for something.

Or someone.

But that’s not your problem anymore. You told yourself that the moment you left the venue.

Which is why, when your phone starts ringing at an ungodly hour, you almost don’t check the caller ID. Almost.

The second you see her name flashing on the screen, your stomach twists.

Jang Wonyoung.

The ringing continues, each second stretching unbearably. You should let it go. Turn off your phone. Pretend you never saw it.

But you don’t. Because deep down, you know you still want to hear her voice. So you answer.

“...Hello?”

There’s silence on the other end for a moment, followed by a soft giggle—breathy and drawn out, the kind that used to slip past her lips whenever she was feeling particularly affectionate.

"Dummmyy!" she hums, stretching your nickname like it’s some sweet, familiar melody.

“Wonyo. Are you drunk?” You sigh, ignoring the way your nickname for her easily rolled out of your tongue.

She giggles again, the sound loose and unguarded. "Mmm… maybe."

"Goddamn it." You rub your temples. "Where are you?"

A rustling noise filters through the receiver, followed by the distant hum of traffic. "Somewhere," she mumbles. "Some bar, I think. The girls took me out."

Figures.

You shift in bed, propping yourself up against the headboard. “It’s late.”

“I know,” she says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But I wanted to call you.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, there’s a soft exhale, the kind she lets out when she’s gathering her thoughts. Then, quieter…

“Because I miss you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone.

"Don’t do that," you say quietly.

"Do what?"

"Say things you don’t mean."

Another pause. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier. "But I do mean it. I do miss you."

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well, that’s not my problem anymore, is it?"

She goes quiet.

For a moment, all you hear is the faint sound of music in the background, the distant chatter of people. She’s probably in the back of some high-end bar or a private lounge that someone of her status often went. You can picture it too easily—her long hair falling over her shoulders, her lips painted red, the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes.

Your heart beat rapidly at the image.

"You came to the fansign," she says suddenly, cutting into your thoughts.

You rub at your temple. "Mhm."

"Why?"

"You already know why."

"Say it anyway."

You sigh. "Because I had the tickets. It would’ve been a waste."

She lets out a humourless laugh. "Right. Can’t have that."

Something about the way she repeats your words from that day makes your stomach twist.

There’s another long pause. Then, almost hesitantly.

"Did you feel anything?"

Your eyes widened. "Feel what?"

"When you saw me again." Her voice is quieter now. "Did you feel anything?"

Your jaw clenches. You want to lie. Want to say no, not at all. That it didn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter. But you can’t.

Because the truth is, you felt everything.

The way your heart clenched when she looked at you. The way your stomach twisted when her fingers hesitated over your name. The way your mind screamed at you to move on, to stop letting her affect you, to stop caring.

But you don’t tell her any of that.

Instead, you settle for, "Who cares anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because we’re done, Jang Wonyoung."

She sucks in a sharp breath, and for a second, you wonder if she’s about to cry.

"You-" She stops, swallows. When she speaks again, her voice is unsteady. "You didn’t even try to fight for me."

Your grip tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white. "You were the one who ended things. On the phone, may I remind you."

"I know," she whispers. "And I thought it was the right choice. But now I just—" She breaks off, voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know anymore."

You shut your eyes.

It would be so easy to give in. To tell her that you don’t know either, that you still think about her, that you still wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But what’s the point?

She made her choice.

And you’re tired of being the one left picking up the pieces.

"You’re drunk, Jang Wonyoung," you say, voice carefully even. "Go home and go to sleep."

"Wait—"

"Goodnight."

And then, before she can say another word, you hang up.

The silence that follows is deafening.

And yet, for the first time in days, you finally let yourself breathe.

-

Or at least, it should be.

You did the right thing, you tell yourself—cut it off before it could spiral any further. Before you let yourself believe, even for a second, that anything has changed.

But still, the weight in your chest lingers.

The room feels too quiet now, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides, making it impossible to ignore the thoughts creeping into your head. You lie back down, throwing an arm over your eyes, willing yourself to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes before you hear it.

A knock.

You freeze.

At first, you think you’re imagining it. Sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and still reeling from that damn phone call, your brain must be conjuring things that aren’t real. But then, the knocking got more insistent. Erratic, yet insistent.

Your brows furrow. You sit up, straining your ears.

"Who the hell…?"

It’s almost 3 AM. No one in their right mind would be visiting you at this hour. Then again, you just got a call from a drunk girl not in their right mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s louder this time, clumsy and uncoordinated, like whoever’s on the other side can barely keep their balance. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach.

You begrudingly throw off your blankets and push yourself up, padding toward the door. Your hand hovers over the handle for a second before you sigh and pull it open.

And there she is.

Wonyoung.

She’s standing there in the dim, flickering hallway light, wrapped in a thin coat that does nothing to protect her from the cold. Her long hair is slightly tousled, the glossy perfection from the concert gone, strands falling loosely over her shoulders. She sways just the slightest, a delicate wobble on unsteady feet. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes glassy—not just from the alcohol but from something else. Something unreadable.

You blink.

She blinks back, like she’s just now processing that you’re standing in front of her.

Then, with absolutely no warning, she wobbles forward, collapsing against your chest.

You barely manage to catch her. “Jesus—Wonyo.” You gently hold her arms, steadying her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

"Surprise," she breathes, half-laughing, half-sniffling.

You let out a sharp breath. “Surprise? You’re seriously—” You stop yourself, jaw clenching. “How did you even get here?”

"I took a taxi," she announces, like that explains anything. Like that justifies her showing up at your door past midnight after breaking up with you.

You stare at her. “Alone?”

“Mmhmm.”

Your stomach twists. “Wonyoung, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

She just hums, leaning more of her weight onto you. Her forehead presses against your shoulder, and you can feel the slight tremble in her body.

You sigh, tightening your grip. “You’re freezing.”

“I was walking.”

“Walking where?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she tilts her head back to look at you properly. Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something—something serious, something she’s probably been holding in for too long. But then, she hiccups.

You close your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

She smiles lazily, like she didn’t just show up at your door dead drunk in the middle of the night after breaking up with you.

"You hung up on me," she murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see her properly. “Yeah. I did.”

"That was mean," she says, pouting. "I was talking."

"You were drunk."

"Still talking."

You shake your head, adjusting your grip on her. “Come on. You need water. And sleep.”

She hums, letting you guide her inside. “Only if you let me stay.”

You pause.

For a brief second, something in her voice sounds painfully sober.

But then she giggles again, burying her face in your chest, and you decide that you’ll deal with that in the morning.

For now, you just hold her close.

You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you shift your grip on her. She’s barely standing at this point, practically melting into you like she has no bones in her body.

"Alright, come on," you mutter, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her inside.

She stumbles slightly, her fingers gripping at your shirt as she giggles under her breath. "You smell nice," she mumbles.

You ignore that.

You close the door behind you with your foot, guiding her toward the couch. She flops onto it with zero resistance, her coat slipping off her shoulders. The moment she’s down, she tilts her head back, blinking up at you like she’s expecting something.

She doesn’t hesitate. Stumble inside like she belongs here.

And maybe that’s the problem. She did belong here.

And now? Now you don’t know.

Her eyes lazily drift across the apartment, lingering on the things she still remembers—the half-empty cup of coffee on your desk, the hoodie she used to steal draped over the chair, the faint indent in the couch where she used to curl up next to you.

Then she noticed your desk, the same desk where the fansign ticket sat just days ago. The same one she saw in your hands at the fansign days ago.

"You really came," she murmurs, not looking at you. "I didn’t think you actually would."

You shrug. "Like I said. Would’ve been a waste."

She flinches. Just the tiniest bit. But you catch it.

She exhales slowly, arms wrapping around herself. "It was weird."

"What was?"

"Seeing you there. But not... There, you know?" She fully looks at you now, and there's something raw in her expression. Something you’re not sure you’re ready to face. "You didn’t smile. You didn’t tease me like you usually do. You barely even looked at me."

"What did you expect?" you ask quietly. "You dumped me, Wonyoung. You can’t just expect me to act like nothing happened."

She presses her lips together, fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve. "I know."

You wait. Give her the space to say what she came here to say.

But she doesn’t. Not right away.

She defeatedly sighed, tucking her knees under her chin, looking smaller than she ever has before. She stares at her hands for a long moment before mumbling, "I don’t know why I came here."

You scoff. "Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you drunk-called your ex, then showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night without a plan."

She frowns. "I do have a plan."

You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She huffs. "Step one: get inside. Step two..." She falters, looking away. "...I didn’t think that far."

You shake your head. "Unbelievable."

Silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken.

Then, barely above a whisper, "Do you hate me?"

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. Because of course you don’t hate her. You never could.

But that’s not the right answer, is it?

So instead, you tell the truth.

"I don’t know," you admit. "I want to. But I can't."

She looks up at you then, eyes searching. Hopeful and afraid all at once. "I messed up, didn’t I?"

You let out a hollow laugh. "Yea. Big time."

She swallows. Lowers her gaze again. "I thought breaking up would make things easier. For you…for both of us."

"Did it?"

She shakes her head. "No."

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling. "Then why did you do it?"

"I was scared," she says, and her voice is so small, so unlike the confident idol the world knows, that it almost hurts to hear. "I thought I was being selfish, holding onto you when I barely had time to see you. I thought you deserved more than stolen moments and rushed phone calls."

Your jaw clenches. "You didn’t even ask me what I wanted."

"I know," she whispers. "I thought I was making the right choice."

You sit down across from her, legs spread, elbows on your knees. "And now?"

She meets your gaze, vulnerability laid bare. "Now... I just miss you."

Your heart leaped a mile. This was the Wonyoung you always see. Not the glamorous and model-esque Jang Wonyoung everyone always see on TV. Not the well-spoken and powerful public figure everyone knows. Just…a gentle yet bubbly girl who snuggled up next to you on the couch at the end of the day.

But your brain should tell her to leave. To sleep it off, to sober up and think about this when her mind is clearer.

Then she reaches out—just the slightest, her fingers brushing against yours on the couch. And you don’t pull away.

"You’re drunk," you remind her, though your voice lacks conviction.

She smiles faintly. "Thanks…Mr. Obvious."

Silence. Then, tentatively, "Can I sleep here tonight?"

Another hesitation.

But just like before, you already know your answer.

You sigh. Your hand intertwined with hers.

"Go get a blanket. Wonyo."

She doesn’t move right away. Just watches you, like she’s memorizing you all over again.

Then, with a small, almost relieved nod, she gets up and stumbled into your bedroom as she dragged you along—the same bedroom she used to slip into after long schedules, the same one she used to call hers.

And just like that, the distance you tried so hard to create crumbles.

Again.

[daryltwdixon]

Could you do bicep choking 🌚🙈

Daryl Dixon x Reader Grip

Summary: You let something slip—just a thought, just a passing comment—but Daryl hasn’t been able to shake it since. A week later, the tension between you reaches a breaking point.  tags: smut MDNI 18+, awkward pining, pinv, breast play, praise kink. awkward daryl & fmc, bicep choking obvi a/n: hello my love! thank you so much for this request and for your patience. in a second ask, anon did specify that they meant Daryl bicep choking. fair warning, I did not reread this a ton / proofread much. please lmk of any mistakes/errors!

The sun hangs low over the trees, heat pressing in heavy as you weave through the abandoned gas station, boots crunching softly over broken glass. Daryl moves a few steps ahead, bow slung across his back, knife in hand, moving with that effortless quiet of his. Always aware. Always in control.

And his arms.

You tell yourself you’re just paying attention—watching his movements like he watches everything else around him, staying alert. But your gaze keeps catching on the shift of muscle beneath his skin, the way his forearms flex when he grips his knife, the lazy tension in his biceps every time he lifts his arm to wipe sweat off his brow.

You shouldn’t be looking.

But it’s hard not to.

Especially when he plants a boot on a fallen shelf, using his weight to pry open a rusted metal door. The strain makes his muscles coil tight, veins standing out just enough to make you swallow hard.

"Well?" His voice snaps you out of it.

You blink. "What?"

Daryl jerks his chin toward the darkened storage room behind the door. "You goin’ in first or what?"

Shit. You’ve been staring.

"Yeah. Right. On it."

You step past him, ears burning. The space inside smells like old rot and motor oil, a few overturned boxes scattered around. You crouch, rifling through some supplies, heart still kicking too fast. It’s stupid. You’ve been on runs with him before. But something about today—the heat, the silence between you, the way he’s been rolling his shoulders like his muscles are wound too tight—has you hyper-aware of every damn thing he does.

A tin of peaches clatters loose from a shelf, and you reach for it at the same time he does. Your fingers barely brush his, but the contact is enough to send a jolt up your arm, like static crackling under your skin. He pauses. Just for a second. And when he draws back, you swear you catch the flicker of his gaze sweeping over you before he looks away.

You can feel your pulse in your throat.

You should let it go. Should get back to work. But the words are out before you can stop them.

"You ever—" You hesitate, pulse hammering, but you push through. "You ever, I don’t know, choke somebody with your arms before?"

Daryl stops. Slowly, he turns his head toward you, eyes narrowing just slightly. His bicep shifts as he adjusts his grip on the tin in his hand. "The hell kinda question is that?"

Shiiiit. You fucked up.

But instead of retreating, you force yourself to keep looking at him, tilting your chin up just a little. "I just mean, you’re strong." A shrug, like it’s no big deal. "Bet you could hold somebody down real easy."

Silence.

Then, Daryl exhales through his nose, shaking his head. But there’s something in his expression—something flickering behind his eyes, sharp and considering.

He tosses the tin into your hands and mutters, "You’re weird." and walks away.

═════════════════════════

Back at the prison, dinner is quiet, the usual hum of conversation mixed with the occasional scrape of utensils against tin plates. Most people are too tired to talk much, a day of tending to the gardens, cleaning out cell blocks and keeping walkers at bay making everyone look forward to the slower evenings. The air in the hall feels thick with the kind of exhaustion that settles deep, making everything feel slow, heavy.

You should be eating, but your stomach isn’t interested.

Because Daryl’s staring at you.

You haven’t looked at him, not really since you got back, but you can feel it. That steady weight from across the room, the burning of your ears, it makes it almost impossible to keep your stomach from doing somersaults. 

You should’ve kept your mouth shut on the run. Should’ve swallowed the words down, let them die in your throat. But no—you had to go and say it. Maybe it was your stupid hormones, the way he seemed to speak to some primal part of you that evolution put in your dna, maybe it was just some stupid impulse you couldn’t control. Either way, it’s too late now.

Not like it meant anything.

Except, if it didn’t, why was he still looking at you?

Your fingers tighten around your fork, but you don’t move to take another bite. Instead, you stare at the food on your plate, willing yourself to focus on anything other than the way your face feels too warm, the way your pulse is pressing a little harder than it should.

Maggie shifts in her seat, nudging Beth’s arm. “You good?”

You blink, glance up. Beth tilts her head, studying you, while Maggie smirks like she already knows something you don’t.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost today or somethin’,” Maggie says, “The run go that bad?”

“N-no,” you stammer, already feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, “It went fine. Got a lotta good stuff, actually.”

Maggie hums, unconvinced, and you watch as her eyes flicker behind you when she says, looking back at her plate, “Looks like someone’s got a little crush.”

The fork slips from your fingers, clattering against the plate, “I do not!”

But your reaction is what does it– it’s too sharp, too defensive. Beth startles a little, but Maggie just stares, slow realization spreading across her face as you lock eyes with her.

“I was only kiddin’." she says incredulously, "I meant the grouchy archer sittin' across the room, he keeps starin’ atcha.” she shakes her head, eyes lighting up. “But I see I’ve been mistaken.” She leans in. “You like Daryl?”

Your stomach drops.

Beth gasps, slapping Maggie’s arm. “Oh my god.”

Your face is on fire. “I don’t—”

Maggie grins. “Holy shit, you totally do.”

Beth’s trying to stifle a giggle. You shake your head fast, like that’ll help, like it’ll undo the last five seconds, but it only makes Maggie look even more certain. You can feel the walls closing in, feel their eyes on you, but worse—you can still feel his.

It’s too much. You push your plate away and mutter a quiet, “Not hungry anymore,” before standing and heading for the stairs, their laughter echoing behind you.

You don’t look back, because if you were to turn around and find those ocean blue eyes still on you, it would be your undoing.

═════════════════════════

The book in your hands is old, pages yellowed and brittle at the edges, the spine cracked so deep you have to be careful when you turn the pages. You’re not even sure what it’s about. Something about a man lost at sea. Maybe.

You’ve been staring at the same paragraph for the last ten minutes.

It’s not that it’s boring. It’s just that your mind refuses to focus.

You shift on your cot, tugging the blanket over your lap, trying again, but it’s useless. Your brain keeps circling back, over and over, to dinner. To Maggie’s knowing grin, Beth’s giggles, and—worst of all—Daryl.

You squeeze your eyes shut, exhaling sharply. You should’ve never said anything. Should’ve kept that stupid thought locked away where it belonged.

A quiet scuff of boots outside your cell makes your stomach jolt. There’s a pause, then a hesitant knock against the frame of your open door. Not loud or rushed, more like a question.

You look up.

Daryl stands in the doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets, head slightly ducked. His shoulders are hunched, like he’s already thinking about leaving before he’s even fully stepped inside.

For a moment, neither of you say anything.

Then, he clears his throat. “Didn’t know ya read.”

You blink. It’s such a small thing to say, but something about the way he says it, like he’s searching for an easy way in, trying to settle into the conversation, makes your stomach tighten.

You glance at the book in your lap. “Yeah. Helps pass the time.”

Daryl nods, his eyes flicking around the small space of your cell, like he’s looking for something else to comment on, something to delay whatever it is he actually came here for. Between your haphazardly taped posters and handmade streamers, he doesn’t find anything, so instead, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, exhales through his nose, then finally says:

“That thing you asked me.”

Your stomach drops. Of course. You should’ve known that was why he was here.

Your fingers tighten around the book, but you shake your head quickly. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry if I made you–”

“You think I can?” he asks, huffing.

You frown. “Think you can what?”

His jaw tenses, and when he speaks again, it’s lower. Almost cautious. “Forget it.”

Your breath catches slightly.

He shrugs, but it’s not casual. It’s forced. “Ain’t exactly somethin’ you just let go of.”

Your chest feels too tight all of a sudden. You can’t quite place the look on his face—something careful, something guarded, like he’s trying not to let on that it’s been sitting in the back of his head since you said it. What went through his mind when you asked him?

You shift on your cot, swallowing. “Daryl, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

His gaze flickers, just barely. “Yeah?”

You nod, but something in the way he’s looking at you makes your throat dry out. He still doesn’t seem convinced.

“You think that’s what I am?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge there, frustration starting to rise in his voice. “Some kinda animal? The kind of man who would kill someone with–” he shakes his head slightly, jaw clenching. “You think I’m like that?”

The realization hits you hard. Your stomach twists. “Daryl, no,” you say quickly, sitting up straighter. “That’s not—”

He shakes his head again, looking at the floor. “Wouldn’t blame ya.”

Your heart kicks against your ribs. “That’s not what I meant.”

Daryl exhales, folding his arms over his chest, still avoiding your eyes. “Then what did you mean?”

You hesitate. Because now he’s looking at you. Not guarded, not distant—just waiting.

Your fingers press into the book in your lap. This is your chance to brush it off. Laugh it away. But you can already feel the heat creeping up your face, and Daryl is still standing there, still waiting, and if you don’t say it now, he’s just going to keep thinking the worst.

You shift slightly. “I meant…” Your throat feels tight. “I meant in bed.”

Daryl blinks.

His whole body stiffens, like his brain short-circuited, like the words hit him sideways and he can’t quite recover. His face is already turning red, slow at first, then creeping all the way up to his ears.

Your own face burns, and you clear your throat, pushing through the embarrassment. “I meant—if you’d ever choked someone in bed. With your arms.”

A silence falls over the room. A long, unbearable silence.

Daryl shifts, dragging a hand over his mouth. He scratches the back of his head, looks anywhere but at you.

Finally, he exhales, mutters, “Jesus,” under his breath, then huffs out a quiet, almost nervous laugh.

Your stomach clenches. “I know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s—uh. That’s what ya meant?”

You nod quickly, still burning. “Yeah.”

Daryl looks at you for a second. His fingers flex slightly at his sides, like he’s thinking too hard about where to put them.

Then, after a long pause—his voice comes out quieter.

“You’d want me to?”

Your stomach drops.

Your eyes snap to his. “What?”

Daryl shrugs, but it’s forced, like he’s trying to play off how red his face still is. “I dunno. Just—” His mouth twitches slightly, like he can’t believe he’s even saying this. “Sounded like somethin’ you were real curious about.”

Your breath catches.

He’s not teasing, not quite—but there’s something in the way he says it, something light, something almost amused. Like he’s surprised at himself, surprised at you, but now that he’s said it, he’s not taking it back.

Your mouth opens, then closes again. Your hands are way too warm.

“I wouldn’t—” you swallow. “I wouldn’t not want you to.”

Daryl huffs out another soft laugh, shaking his head, glancing toward the hall like he’s wondering how the hell this conversation ended up here.

Then he looks back at you, eyes a little sharper now, lips twitching.

The heat in your face flares. You make a noise of protest, shoving at his arm lightly, but he just chuckles under his breath, rubbing at his jaw before he steps back toward the door.

“Get some sleep,” he says, still smirking.

He turns, but not before you catch it—just the slightest flicker of something in his expression.

Something knowing. Something interested.

And when he finally walks away, you can’t do anything except stare at the empty doorway and try to remember how to breathe.

═════════════════════════

The past week has been unbearable.

It’s not like anything has happened, not really. No one has said anything, no lines have been crossed, but the air between you and Daryl hasn’t been the same since that night in your cell.

It’s in the way his eyes catch on you more often now. The way he lingers a little too long before walking away. The way your skin prickles when he’s nearby, too aware of the space he takes up, too aware of how small you feel in comparison.

And now, you’re on another run together.

“Last one went well,” Rick had said, shoving packs toward both of you. “Might as well stick with what works.”

The drive into town is quiet. Neither of you talk much, just like last time, but it’s not the same. There’s a different kind of weight, and you’re grateful that the open road on the motorcycle leaves little conversation to be said over its echoing roar.

When you finally reach an old pharmacy on the outskirts, the sun is starting to climb higher in the sky, heat burning your neck and the pavement glimmering.

Inside, dust clings to everything, thick in the air. It smells stale, like old paper and time left to rot. Shelves are overturned, bottles and boxes scattered across the floor.

You do your job, scanning for anything useful, but your focus keeps slipping.

Because every time you glance up, Daryl is there.

He’s not doing anything different. Not saying anything. Just moving through the space like he always does—quiet, efficient. But somehow, it feels like every single movement is deliberate. Like every shift of muscle under his skin is something you shouldn’t be watching, but you are.

The dust-covered counter at the back of the building gives you something to focus on, something to do besides thinking about the weight of Daryl’s gaze. You hop over the counter and crouch down, scanning the lowest shelf, rifling through half-empty boxes of medication, checking for anything still worth taking back.

A prickle of awareness crawls up the back of your neck.

It’s not the usual kind of awareness you get on a run, not the instinct that tells you someone—or something— dangerous is lurking nearby. It’s different. Warmer. Closer.

When you stand, a bottle of pills in your hand, you nearly jump out of your skin.

Daryl is right there, barely a foot away, standing between you and the only way out.

Your breath stutters. He doesn’t usually get this close without reason.

He’s blocking the exit, but it doesn’t feel like he’s trapping you—it feels like he’s stopping himself from walking away. His weight shifts between his feet, his arms twitch like they want to cross, but he doesn’t move, just watches you with something unreadable in his eyes.

Your fingers tighten around the bottle in your hand. “Wha—what’s up?”

Daryl doesn’t answer at first. He just looks at you, quiet and considering, something simmering beneath the surface. His teeth catch against the corner of his lip for a second, his fingers flex at his sides, but it’s like he still hasn’t worked out how to say whatever it is that’s sitting heavy on his chest.

Then he exhales through his nose and mutters, “Can’t stop thinkin’.”

His voice is rough, like the words have been stuck in his throat all day.

Your pulse jumps. “Thinking... about what?”

He shifts again on uneven footing, glancing toward the counter before dragging his gaze back to you. The moment stretches, thick enough to smother, before he finally speaks again.

“Since last time,” he mutters, voice quieter now. Your stomach flips. He shakes his head, almost to himself. “You got me all fucked up, girl.”

It’s not frustration, not really—it’s more like exhaustion, like he’s tired of pretending that something between you hasn’t changed. And when he steps forward, closing the last bit of space between you, your body reacts before your brain catches up.

Your back hits the wall behind you.

The old metal shelving is cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat rolling off him. He’s so close now, close enough that you catch the faint scent of pine and sweat clinging to him, close enough that every nerve in your body locks up, unsure whether to tense or melt.

His arms come up, hands bracing against the metal on either side of you, and suddenly you can’t look anywhere but at him.

Your breath feels too shallow.

Daryl dips his head slightly, breath warm against your cheek, and you hear the way he inhales, slow and deep, smelling the remnants of the apple shampoo you used days ago. 

“S’not like I haven’t thought of ya before.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and your lips part, but you don’t know what to say. You can barely think straight with him this close, his voice this low. He smells of musk and leather and summer sunshine, something distinctly masculine and Daryl all at once. His words sink in, heavy and real, and before you can even process them, he huffs a quiet breath, shaking his head against the side of yours.

“Thought of ya a lot, actually.”

Your stomach twists, heat flaring under your skin.

Daryl pulls back just enough to look at you, and that’s when you see it—the way his pupils are blown, the way his breath comes slow and measured like he’s still holding something back. His jaw is tight, his fingers flex slightly against the metal, and you don’t know whether he’s waiting for permission or for you to push him away.

“Say somethin’,” he murmurs, voice rough like gravel in your ears. “Please.”

You reach up then, your hand trembling slightly as your fingers brush along his jaw, skimming over the uneven scruff growing in patches on his face. He exhales, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you trace up along his cheekbone, down the side of his neck, feeling the tension there, the way his pulse beats strong beneath your fingertips.

“I think of you a lot too,” you finally manage to say, and it’s barely louder than a whisper.

His eyes open, still blown wide as they flicker between yours, then drop to your lips. His breath is slow, measured, like he’s forcing himself to hold back.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s more than just a response—it’s permission, it’s consent, letting him know that whatever he’s thinking, whatever’s been running through his mind, you want it too.

And like you’ve just cut the cord that’s been wound too tight between you, he pushes forward, his lips crashing into yours with urgency.

You’re surprised just how soft his lips are, how gentle he tries to be, but the way he moves is anything but hesitant. There’s no testing, no waiting—he’s done holding back, done second-guessing. He kisses you like he’s been starving for it, like it’s something he’s wanted for too damn long, and you can’t help but act in equal fervor.

Your fingers tighten against his jaw, then slide up into his hair, gripping, pulling. He groans into your mouth, the sound low, wrecked, sending a sharp pulse of heat straight through you. His hands move without restraint now, gripping at your waist, fingers pressing into your hips, pulling you closer like the space between you is unbearable.

You barely register the sharp clatter of bottles knocked from the shelves as your back presses harder against the metal. Daryl doesn’t seem to care. If anything, the mess spurs him on, makes him more reckless, more desperate.

He kisses you deeper, tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your legs weak, makes your stomach tighten. He’s breathing hard, fingers digging into your sides, body pressing fully into you now, until there’s nothing between you but heat and friction.

His lips drag from your mouth down to your jaw, then lower, his breath hot as he murmurs against your skin. “Been losin’ my mind over you all damn week.” His teeth catch on the pulse in your neck, not biting, just grazing, making you shudder. “Longer than that, if I’m bein’ honest.”

Your nails bite into his shoulders as he kisses lower, pressing into the spot just beneath your jaw, the one that makes your breath hitch. His hands are everywhere—roaming, gripping, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips brush against bare skin, warm and rough, and you arch into his touch without thinking.

“Daryl…”

He groans at the way you say his name, a quiet, broken sound that sends a deep shudder through his body. He presses his forehead against yours for a second, breath ragged, like he’s trying to steady himself but failing. Then his hands tighten on your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter of the pharmacy.

You gasp softly, but he’s already between your legs, already pulling you flush against him, the heat between your bodies unbearable. His lips are on yours again, claiming, devouring, his hands moving up your thighs, squeezing, gripping like he can’t get enough.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you kiss him harder, the urgency between you growing into something more frantic, more consuming. His hands slide beneath your shirt, pushing it up and over your head, and you shiver as his palms drag over your ribs, rough and warm.

His mouth leaves yours just long enough to mutter against your skin, voice thick with something wild, something unraveling. “You sure about this?”

Your only answer is to pull him back in, crashing your lips to his, fingers fisting in his shirt as you tug him closer, needing him, needing more.

That’s all he needs. His shirt is gone in the next instant with yours following suit, and the moment the fabric is over your head, his lips are on you again, everywhere. You arch into his touch, heat rolling through you as his mouth works down your neck, trailing over your collarbone, then lower. Each kiss leaves behind something electric, something you feel everywhere, and when he drags lower still, down onto your bare chest, his lips and teeth and tongue worship everywhere but where you want him most.

Your breath hitches, your hands restless, gripping at his arms, his shoulders, his hair—anywhere you can reach, anywhere you can pull him closer. He’s between your legs now, his body solid, burning against yours, his hands gripping your thighs, fingers flexing like he’s holding himself back.

You look down at him, ready to beg, but the sight of him wrecks you.

Daryl between your legs, his lips on your skin, mouth open, breath warm as he stares at you like he’s never seen anything like you before.

Any coherent thought vanishes the moment his lips close around your nipple.

A breathless moan leaves your lips as his tongue flicks over it, hot and slow, sending a deep ache curling low in your stomach. His rough fingers knead your other breast, rolling and pinching your sensitive skin in just the right way, his touch deliberate, like he’s learning you, like he’s memorizing every reaction.

You arch into him, pressing closer, needing more, but he keeps the pace slow, like he’s savoring every second, like he wants to soak in every feel of your body against his. 

His tongue swirls over the sensitive bud, lips tugging gently before he soothes it with another slow flick, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. His other hand stays firm on your breast, rolling, kneading, fingers rough with callouses as he works you over with slow, steady intent. It’s almost too much, yet not enough, and you feel yourself tilting between the two sensations, every nerve in your body locked onto the way he’s touching you, kissing you, like he never wants to stop.

You’re barely aware of your own sounds, the quiet gasps, the soft moans, the way your hands dig into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, needing him closer. His mouth moves lower, lips dragging down your stomach, his hands sliding along your sides, gripping your waist like he’s grounding himself.

Then, just when you think he’s going to keep going, he stops.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, chest rising and falling, lips slick and parted. His hands squeeze at your waist, thumbs brushing slow over your skin, and he swallows, throat bobbing as he exhales through his nose.

“Turn around,” he murmurs, voice wrecked, thick with something dark, something unfiltered.

Your breath catches.

You do as he says, shifting, dropping your feet to the floor and gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself as you twist in his hold. The air feels even thicker now, hotter, your pulse hammering as his hands slide over your hips, guiding you exactly where he wants you.

His palms press firm against your lower back, tracing down to your waist before his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants. There’s no rush in the way he tugs them down, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every new inch of skin he reveals. The scrape of fabric against your thighs sends a shiver rolling through you, and when they finally pool at your ankles, his hands smooth back up, gripping, kneading, pulling you back into him.

A sharp inhale leaves your lips when you feel him press against you, his breath warm at the curve of your neck. His fingers flex at your hips, gripping tight, like he’s still trying to hold himself back, like he’s at war with the need running through him.

“Goddamn,” he mutters under his breath.

You don’t have time to respond before his lips are on your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin, hands gripping you tighter, pulling you flush against him. The heat of him seeps through you, burning into your skin, your body molding against his like you were always meant to fit there.

Then, slowly, his hand slides up.

You barely register the shift before the weight of his arm is curling around your neck, firm but careful, forearm bracing across your throat, holding you in place. The solid strength of his muscles—it’s everything you imagined, everything you tried so hard to ignore when the thought first crossed your mind.

A low, rough chuckle rumbles against your ear.

“This what you wanted, ain’t it?” His voice is gravel, wrecked, thick with something primal as his breath ghosts along your jaw. His hold tightens just slightly, just enough to make you shudder. “My arm around this pretty neck?”

His words send a shudder through you, pooling heat low in your stomach as your hands grip the counter harder. His arm is thick around your neck, a steady weight that makes you dizzy with want, and when he tightens it just slightly, enough to make you feel it, a whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“Yes,” you breathe, voice barely there.

Daryl stills for half a second like he wasn’t expecting you to admit it so easily. Then he makes a noise low in his throat, something rough, something wrecked, and his grip on you tightens.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his voice thick, warm, almost tender in contrast to how strong he feels behind you. His nose brushes against your jaw, his lips grazing over your pulse as his other hand trails lower, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your hip. “What a sweet thing you are”

The praise sends a jolt through you, your breath catching, fingers twitching against the counter as he shifts behind you. Then you hear it, a belt coming loose and buckle clattering to the floor with the jeans he was wearing and suddenly you feel him– heavy and thick as he nudges against you, the heat of it pressing right against your slick entrance.

Your whole body tenses, then melts, nails digging into his arm where it rests against your throat. 

Daryl lets out a slow, shuddering breath, nipping lightly at the edge of your ear before murmuring, “Christ, barely touched you and you’re all wet. This all for me?” His hips press forward again, slow, teasing, and you let out a quiet whimper, pushing back into him without thinking. His cock notches into you then, and you both let out a sudden gasp.

“That’s it,” he praises, lips pressing against the shell of your ear, his voice low and soothing and coaxing as his cock sinks deeper into you. “You’re so damn good. Feels good, don’t it?”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him talk like this before, soft and filthy all at once, like he’s pouring everything he has into the way he touches you, the way he holds you. You nod, swallowing hard. “So good, Daryl.”

His breath turns heavier, warmer against your skin as he pulls you back onto him, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch as he buries himself inside you. His grip tightens at your hip, steadying you, holding you exactly where he wants you, but the real weight—the one that sends a full-body shudder through you—is his arm, still firm around your neck. You back arches against him, leaning into the muscles of his forearm as he holds you into the crook of his elbow.

“There you go,” he rasps, his voice strained, wrecked. His hips rock forward again, sinking deeper, stretching you, and a ragged moan slips from your lips. His grip flexes, and he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, lips warm, tongue flicking against your pulse before he nips at it, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin. “Knew you’d take me so good.”

Your nails dig harder into his arm, fingers curling around his wrist where he holds you, your breath hitching as he starts to move. Slow at first, testing, drawing himself out before pushing back in, each roll of his hips deliberate, each thrust pressing deeper, setting a rhythm that already has you unraveling.

His arm around your neck tightens, just slightly, just enough to make your next breath stutter, to make the heat between your legs coil tighter.  His breath is hot against your ear, rough and ragged, the tension in his body coiled so tight you can feel it thrumming through his chest, through the arm braced around your throat.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he groans, his voice raw, nearly pained as he rocks into you. "You don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me."

His hips move with slow precision at first, teasing, working you open, dragging out every sensation like he wants you to feel him, to know that he’s the one making you come apart like this. His fingers dig into your hip, pulling you back onto him, the blunt head of his cock pressing deep with every thrust.

"Been thinkin’ about this," he murmurs, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "Bout how tight you’d feel, how fuckin’ perfect you’d take me. You feel that, baby?" He drives into you harder then, pushing you flush against the counter, stealing your breath with the sheer force of it. "Feels better than I ever imagined."

Your nails claw at his arm, breath ragged as his grip tightens just slightly around your neck, just enough to hold you there, to keep you at his mercy. His hips snap into you then, harder and faster now that you’ve adjusted to the sheer stretch of his cock. 

"Shit," he groans, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against your jaw, sucking at the delicate skin before biting down, his voice going strained. "You like this, don’t ya? Bein’ held like this? Wrapped up in me, nowhere to go."

You whimper, pushing back into him, chasing the heat, the pressure, the way he’s unraveling you piece by piece.

His free hand slides down, dipping between your legs, his fingers finding you slick and swollen, rubbing slow, purposeful circles that make your knees shake.

"Fuck, look at you," he mutters, pressing his forehead to the side of your head, his breath coming harder now. "Gettin’ all worked up, takin’ it so damn well." His fingers flick over your clit, pressing just right, and you let out a broken moan. "That’s it, baby. Let me hear you. Been dreamin’ ‘bout these sounds."

His thrusts grow rougher, deeper, and the tension in your belly coils tight, too tight, everything building.

Daryl feels it.

"Yeah," he breathes, his voice shaking now, wrecked with how good you feel around him. "I know, sweetheart. Feels like your body’s beggin’ for it, huh?" His lips drag over your jaw, his hips pounding into you now, chasing that high. "Wanna cum all over me, don’t ya?"

The coil snaps at his words, white-hot and blinding as his arm tightens, stealing the breath from you completely. Your entire body goes taut as pleasure crashes over you, so sharp and overwhelming as your lungs scream for air. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing tight, and Daryl groans deep in his chest, his rhythm going sloppy, erratic.

"Shit, you’re milkin’ me, baby," he groans, his fingers moving to grip your hips, "Goddamn, you feel like fuckin’ heaven." 

He holds you, hips pinning you against the counter as he buries himself deep, shuddering against you as he spills inside you.

His hold around your neck finally eases, his hand smoothing over your collarbone, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses against the side of your neck as both of you come down together.

"You alright?" His voice is quieter now, rough around the edges, but there’s something tender in it, something real.

You exhale shakily, your body still humming from the aftershocks, a slow, blissed-out smile creeping across your lips. "Yeah. That was… that was so hot."

Daryl huffs out a small, breathless laugh, pressing a lingering kiss against the side of your neck. His hands keep roaming, slow and absentminded, smoothing over your waist, tracing lazy circles along your hips, like he doesn’t want to let go just yet.

"Yeah?" He nuzzles into your shoulder, his lips grazing your damp skin. "Ain’t never tried it before." His voice is warm, a little smug, but softer than before, like he’s still coming down from it too.

You hum, stretching slightly against him, still pressed chest to back. "Me neither. Somethin’ about you, Dixon."

Daryl makes a sound deep in his throat, something pleased, something almost knowing. His fingers tighten just slightly at your hip, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw before he murmurs, "Ain’t gonna be the last time, neither."

“Promise?” you chuckle, turning in his arms to snake your hands around his neck.

Daryl smirks, slow and lazy, his breath warm against your skin as he tilts his head, letting your fingers slip into his hair. His hands slide lower, resting at the curve of your back, holding you against him like he has no intention of letting go.

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice rough but sure. "Promise."

His lips find yours again, softer this time, slower, like he’s savoring it, like he’s already thinking about the next time, about how he’ll take his time with you, about all the things he wants to do.

[ladyloveandjustice]

I mean, Legend of Lattes did have a conflict, her coffee place straight up burned down? It wasn't a major focus for most of the book but it happened.

I've only read a few cozy fantasy things, and didn't find a few of them super memorable myself, but the definition of cozy fantasy is pretty broad from what I've seen. Emily Wilde is categorized as that and it is FULL of conflict and action and has some great and memorable characters.

But people have always liked stuff that's low tension/stakes/fluffy. See coffee shop aus in fanfic, or fanfic tagged fluff. See slice of life anime where characters are just hanging out. It's not a new thing. People have always wanted to watch or read things that just give cozy vibes and allow them to hang out with characters. The book industry realizing there was a market for that was inevitable. If it's not for you, it's not for you, but it's obviously for someone or it wouldn't be doing well.

I also think this is a good example of how condescending we can get when talking about a genre we don't like. Rather than say "it's not for me, I don't find the characters memorable and want better stakes, maybe there should be more variety" (which was more where OP was at) it has to be somehow bad for people to read it and write it. like...

And so sometimes it feels impossibly challenging to write any book except one where nothing bad happens and nothing is in danger and nobody is really bothered or worried about anything and everything is mostly fine and there aren't any major setbacks…..

That is a hell of a condescending assumption to make about those writers. Jesus. I'm a professional author too, but I would not want to make these assumptions about my fellow writers.You don't know if they're doing it because it's easy, or if they're doing it because they felt there was a need for it, or it was just an idea they liked writing. You don't like it, great. That doesn't mean those writers are slacking off or doing something wrong somehow. You don't know that they don't also write books with tension and conflict. I feel like most of them probably have, actually. Assuming they sat down and thought "omg this will be easy I'm so lazy" is just...do you make the same assumption about romance writers? It can get pretty formulaic, but that doesn't mean it's easy to write. Have you tried to write a cozy fantasy and sell it and make it do well? If not, I don't think you should talk about how easy it is.

But that leaves readers cold.

I mean not all readers obviously, since it wouldn't be doing well or selling well?

And frankly, I don't feel like it does much of anything to nourish either our souls or theirs.

It feels like eating a bag of potato chips for dinner instead of going to the effort of even just heating up a frozen dinner that has a vegetable in it.

Why does reading HAVE to "nourish your soul", whatever that means? What's wrong with eating a bag of potato chips? You teach college, so I wonder if you've ever run into a colleague who thinks this way about regular fantasy and sci-fi. Where they think that genre fiction is inherently more disposable and less challenging than literary fiction. I've sure as hell run into those professors, that look down on readers and writers of "commercial fiction", and I've seen the bad impact they have on their students. Do you agree with them? Because you're sounding a lot like them right now. This is the exactly the kind of argument they'd make.

You don't know whether these people don't also read books with more stakes or a variety of genres as well. Low effort reading has it's place, it just maybe shouldn't be the only thing you read if you want to actually experience the breadth of literature.

And I see this a lot in the book community, but dissing the stuff people are into and saying they need to challenge themselves more or they won't be smart like you (I see this with YA a lot too) is not going to convince them. It frames reading as a chore, and people often don't like doing chores in a life full of them, and reading is a hobby for a lot of people. Rather that say "you need to read this to better your mind" say what can be interesting or intriguing about these books that are more challenging, what kind of cool things you can get from them. Sometimes it seems to me like the point of these arguments is to feel superior, rather than actually convince people.

Nothing's wrong with reading low effort books or watch low effort shows--it's when say, a YA reader says books are inherently flawed if they don't spell things out like YA sometimes does or has more challenging themes. Or a cozy fantasy reader acting like all books should be cozy fantasy and books with tension are bad. Those are the people that ruin the discourse. But, doing the inverse isn't any better.

idk, man. I've taught university classes about this shit, but what do I know.

I teach grad school classes on writing, (I don't like to pull that card, since it's not like teachers can't have flawed ideas about their subject but since we're here) and have taught similar lessons. Yet, here's what I think I do know: telling students the genre they write is wrong is not something a teacher should do. Those literary fiction professors love doing that, and I'm not them.

As a teacher with a variety of students in a variety of genres, I have to read genres I don't like all the time--god I hate most 'dark romance' and man do I not get or like omegaverse, but I sure as hell had to read both. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean they're worthless, or there isn't a market for them, or it's wrong to write them. So I put those feelings aside, think about what kind of help the student needs to be successful in their chosen genre, and what the audience would want, because that will help them improve. (though I do try to hint if something seems like, incredibly sexist, that maybe we should reconsider that, or look at it from all angles and decide if it's something the story needs). And at the same time, I do teach them basic lessons on how to structure a story, and what's good about conflict, stakes, etc.

But I wouldn't tell any of them they're wrong for writing cozy fantasy even if it's not always my cup of tea, because there is a market for it, and I want them to do well at it and do what they love. What pays the bills pays them, and if you actually like what you do, that's also important. Writers do need to challenge themselves, which is why I encourage students to be open minded about all genres, try out writing them, try writing different POVs, different stuff even if they don't publish it, because that can only help them get better at what they do. But if what they publish is cozy fantasy, hey, it gets them good money and they like doing it, that's more than I can say for most jobs.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[muqingslover]

[ Caleb canonically doing MC's laundry has set something off in my brain so here I am. Also, happy Valentine's day ! here's a longer one as a treat from me ;) I've been posting kinda of non-stop haha ] if you saw me post this before no you didn't

This has happened before. In fact, it had happened a few too many times for his sanity's sake. Whenever Caleb offered to do your laundry to be helpful he always had to deal with the strain in his pants that he pretended wasn't there by covering his lap with a magazine and thinking about literally anything else besides that tantalizing piece of fabric. He's been a good man, or at least he's always tried to be one for you. But was it really his fault if the situation was presented to him with a quite literally adorable little red bow?

Still, he has an admiring amount of self-restraint and for days he told himself he should give them back to you. Every time you two met he kept waiting for the moment to return it, clutching the fabric in his pocket, but all he received were reasons not to. Or perhaps, he just saw what he wanted to see. That's how a week turned into months and then the tortuous years without contact that drove him to the brink of insanity. Fighting back the urge to find you again and do everything his mind has fantasized about countless times was one of the hardest battles he ever faced, and that was saying something.

"Fuck..." He exhaled shakily. His head hit the wall behind him and he spread his legs further on the chair of his private quarters, keeping a firm hand wrapped around the base of his cock. It started after he found the old pair of panties that he had so carefully stored away and now all his mind had to offer were twisted fantasies. Caleb was in biiig trouble— He had to leave in less than fifteen minutes for a meeting and there were security officers constantly passing by his door, but he was past the stage that a simple cold shower and mental math equations would make the issue go away. The images of how the fabric would've adorned your curves in all the right places were soon followed by the memories of how sometimes he'd get a sneak peek when you bent over in front of him and gods that was the sexiest thing he's ever seen.

His metallic hand clutched the delicate fabric tighter as he trapped the lace between his teeth to force down another low groan when his palm began moving up and down again and the faint smell of your soap made his mind feel fuzzy. He was so sensitive that it ached to be touched— He was sure if this was your hand he'd have come on the spot the second your fingers brushed against him. Hell, if you breathed a bit too closely to his cock he'd fall apart like the pathetic man he is and he can only picture how your beautiful face would look covered with his cum. Can you blame him though? He's never even considered doing this with anyone else, nor will he ever do that, and his busy military life didn't leave much space for his own...moments.

He released the lace from his teeth and pressed the red fabric against his swollen tip, accidentally letting out a strained moan that was a bit too loud as his eyes rolled back into his head. He decided to quickly shut himself up by pushing his dog tag into his mouth to bite down on the metal, otherwise everyone outside his room would know just what the colonel was doing. Caleb imagined that the wet line his precum had made was because of your arousal for him instead. The way it would seep through the thin fabric and mark your pussy for him in such a filthy way. The way he'd lick along the damp spot and enjoy each and every sound that he'd surely drag out of your throat while he had your thighs around his head.

His hips jerked as he thrusted himself into his hand, into your panties, into you. The room filled with his barely contained ragged breathing as he hoped your pussy would be as much of a slippery mess as his cock was right now when he pushed past your slit, stretching you open so good yet so agonizingly slow. His grasp around his length was tight when the friction of the thin fabric against his dripping cock sent him over the edge and he came so hard his body twitched non-stop. His dog tag slipped from his lips, dangling around his neck again as he slumped back against the chair after his strength left his body momentarily.

His eyes landed on the red panties that were now coated in his thick, white cum and Caleb raised his hand to bring the messy cloth to his lips. He pushed his tongue out and licked along right at the middle where your soaked cunt would be, tasting his own release and wishing it was yours. It was a shame he had gotten such a pretty and precious thing dirty but, not to worry, he's always been good at cleaning up.

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 14: Becoming the Monster

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

a/n3: listen I like Lando but I needed a villian here

Masterlist | Taglist

y/n_gossip

liked by user, user, and 1,836,622 others

tagged: y/n_rb, landonorris

y/n_gossip: it seems like little Lando Norris might be thinking of a matador career — he keeps tempting the bulls! After a few close calls with Verstappen, Norris and L/N collided resulting in a DNF for our girl with some pretty harsh words coming from both of their radios afterwards.

view all comments

user1: this is what racing is!

↳user2: I know — I was on the edge of my seat…

user3: pretty harsh?? Girl sounded like she was gonna run him down on foot and take him out

↳user4: lol did you see the rb team after she got back to the garage?

↳user5: they literally just picked her up and moved her away from the reporters 😂😂

user6: oh the post race interviews are gonna slap

↳user7: I can’t wait!

user8: that’s so completely unfair! y/n was ahead at the apex — Lando should have given it away, not crashed into her

↳user9: seriously?? Where on earth did you get that information??

↳user8: uhh by watching the screen??

user10: oh shit….

↳user11: Lando’s post interview??

↳user10: how dare he say something like that???

f1gossip

liked by user, user, and 1,457,987 others

Transcript:

interviewer: and what are your thoughts on y/n and your collision today?

Lando: obviously not ideal. You know you never want to be in a collision- especially when it’s not your fault. Y/N…she should spend less time with Max, don’t need her becoming another monster, ya know…

f1gossip: what an interview! During his post race interview for Austria 2024, where he was forced to dnf after two different collisions with both Redbulls, Norris didn’t hold back his thoughts. During this brief moment, he talked about the close friendship between this year’s Redbull drivers — saying that y/n (a rookie) should take a step back from her more senior teammate because no one “[needed] her becoming another monster,”. He also went on to say that he was losing respect for Verstappen and the way he raced.

view all comments

user12: did he really just fucking say that?

↳user13: oh my god he did

↳user14: it’s even worse when you actually watch it because you can just barely see max next to him — when Norris said this, both max and the interviewer froze

↳user13: i mean i would too. That’s a really harsh thing to say about someone

user15: people want cunty f1 back again but can’t handle this little spat??

↳user16: cunty? Yes. Whatever this was? Absolutely not

user17: he’s just salty she’s better then him

↳user18: how do you figure that??

↳user17: she literally won her very first f1 race? He’s been racing for years and only just won his first this year

↳user18: it doesn’t count really. Everyone knows that redbull cheats

↳user17: oh my god just shut up

user20: i feel bad for y/n…it really wasn’t her fault nor did it affect lando too much but he’s (someone she’s said she looks up too before) putting her on blast with some pretty harsh words…

↳user21: she looks up to him??

↳user20: yeah! She’s said multiple times that she really admires how open he is talking about his mental health and that she really wanted to emulate him

↳user21: oh ouch…then today and that interview has got to hurt…

user22: anyone else interested in what she’s gonna do to retaliate?

↳user23: 🙋🏾‍♀️🙋🏾‍♀️

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala-67

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ too hot to handle (송민기 ♡ s.mg)

your neighbor has more to give than you bargained for.

style: bullet drabble pairing: non idol!mingi x fem!reader word count: 1.8k tags/warnings: smut, pwp, light fluff, neighbor!mingi, fem!reader, big dick, like monster cock level she can't do anything with it, sub!mingi, like super sub, dom!reader, teasing, praise, heavy use of good boy/perfect boy etc., makeouts, grinding, oral f!receiving, face riding, lots of dirty talk, dick on clit action, controlled orgasms, edging and overstim, eventual piv notes: this has been on the brain for longer than i could ever tell you so hopefully it's a fun one x

[masterlist]

The problem with your neighbor isn’t that he’s hot. It isn’t that he’s funny and charming, and it definitely isn’t the crush bubbling between the both of you. Those would be normal problems, problems you tell your best friends about. 

The problem with your neighbor is that his dick is too big. 

You find that out at the same time you find out this giant who lives next door to you with the deep voice and a penchant for calling you “pretty girl” is actually not the dominant you assumed he would be.

Mingi is actually shockingly, surprisingly submissive. 

And you shockingly, surprisingly, love that more than you ever could have guessed. 

You figure that out while you’re straddling him on the couch, and when you roll your hips just right you feel the impressive hardness of him and hear the neediest whimper you’ve ever heard from a man at the exact same time. 

It takes you thirty minutes more of making out and shedding clothes for you to get a good look at his cock, and when you do it grinds the whole almost-fuck to a stop.

And -

“I know,” He breathes, his eyes softening, “it’s okay if you don’t want to keep going.” 

You blink at him, unable to hide the trepidation in your eyes, “It’s not that I don’t want to try,” 

“It’s okay,” He sounds dejected, but also like this has happened to him before and that fills you with nothing but sharp determination. 

“Hang on,” You lay a hand over his bare chest, still straddling his lap, the impressive length and girth of his cock standing between you. 

“Listen,” He sighs, “I get it,” 

“Mingi,” You interrupt him, “I’m not kicking you out,” 

“You’re not?” His eyebrows raise. 

“No,” You smile, “I do think we should maybe… work up to things,” 

“Of course,” He rushes to agree, his hands sliding up and down your bare thighs. 

“It’s just,” You grimace, “I haven’t had sex in a long time, like a really long, kind of embarrassing amount of time,” 

“That’s okay,” He soothes. 

“I’d be lying if I said I thought I could take you,” You sigh, “but Mingi, I’d really, really like to work up to it,” 

“Yeah?” He grins like he just won the lottery. 

“Uh-huh,” You swallow a little nervously, “just maybe not tonight?” 

“Right,” He nods, “anything you want,” 

“Is that okay?” You check, sliding closer to him, his bare cock brushing against your abdomen. 

“Okay?” He nods, “Of course, it’s… I mean, I like you. I want to do whatever you want, that’s what I want,” 

He’s a little flustered, still walking a nervous line like you might change your mind, or he’s worried about coming on too strong, and you take him in for a moment. 

Somewhere inside, you find the boldness to ask the question you’ve wanted to ask since you heard his first whimpered moan, “Mingi,” You murmur, “is that what you’re into? Doing what I want?”

His eyes flick over your face, but you don’t miss the way they darken up at the idea and he nods, “If you’re into that,” he says, “but I can take over if you need me to,” 

You wonder how many girls have begged him to be more dominant. How many girls have pushed him to go to a place that isn’t entirely comfortable for him, when he clearly wants the opposite. 

“I’m into that,” You tell him, “don’t worry,” 

You both click together like kinky little puzzle pieces, and despite the fact that you’ve never had his dick properly inside you, you’ve been having sex for weeks. 

You get creative. 

Mingi and his giant cock seem to love nothing more than making you feel good, especially when you use his big body to get yourself off. 

The first few times you hook up it’s the basics, getting to know each other, getting to know each other's bodies and what makes each other tick… but by the fourth time? The fifth? 

The fourth time you’re a horny mess, probably a breath away from ovulating and ready to climb his tall ass like a tree, and so all the hesitation you’ve had about being too much for each other flies right out the window. 

With him pinned to your bed you ride his thigh like it’s a pillow, barely looking at him as you get yourself off, and when you’re done all he can do is beg you to do that again, but on his face. 

He whimpers when his tongue first slips inside your folds, when he feels the weight of your body sink onto him. His hands grip your ass and between sucks and moans he begs you to ride him, to fuck his face and never stop. 

With your hands on the headboard you take it just like before, eyes closed, head thrown back, your moans spilling out into the room . 

He comes untouched that time, ropes and ropes of his hot cum painting his chest and stomach, panting apologies into your thighs, and that’s when everything changes. 

Now you tell him when to come. How to come. Where to come. 

You discover that he loves to be edged and you love to be overstimulated. 

A perfect combination of opposites. 

You make him beg for things, ache for things, his cock leaking against your lips as he whines. 

“Please, please, just a taste, just a lick, please, god, please,” 

And sometimes you let him have it, but most of the time you don’t. 

He seems to like that even more. 

Mingi and his big cock have found so many other ways to get off that you almost never want to give into having him inside you, because what if your dynamic changes? The anticipation is the delicious part, the denial, the almost-almosts. 

The way he begs when he’s on his knees between your splayed thighs, his shaft rubbing against your slick folds, sliding over your clit - that’s when you almost break. 

“You f-feel so good,” He shudders, thrusting his hips slowly back and forth so that his cock slides up and down your aching center. 

“Mm,” You sigh, relaxing into the mattress, “good boy,” 

His cock twitches at that, “Thank you, thank you,” 

“Go faster, baby,” You beckon him down with a come-hither motion, “fuck me like you mean it,” 

He freezes, “I-inside?” 

“Did I say inside?” You counter. 

“No, no, of course, I’m sorry,” He stumbles past that assumption and shakes his head, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks. 

You nod, a silent push to get him to move faster, and he scrambles to comply. 

He braces himself over your spread form on the bed, your hips slotting more tightly together, and then he braces his forearms on either side of you and starts to thrust. 

“Faster,” 

His hips speedup. 

Every brush of his shaft over your swollen clit makes you want to writhe and moan beneath him, but keeping control is the fun part for him, so you stay focused. 

“That’s it, baby,” You brush your fingers through his shaggy locks, “such a good boy,” 

He moans, but keeps the pace. 

“Mm,” You sigh through an almost moan, “baby, your cock feels so good inside me,” 

His hips jerk, a stammered groan on his lips. 

The tease was meant for him, a reminder of where his cock isn’t, but heat spreads through your belly at the idea of what he might feel stretching you open for real. 

“Say it,” You open your legs wider, angling your hips to get the sensation right. 

“Your pussy feels so good,” He pants. 

“Don’t stop,” You direct him again. 

“So tight,” He whines, “so wet,” 

“More, baby.” 

“S-so perfect,” He shudders, his eyes tightly closed, “thank you for l-letting me fuck you,” 

“Oh,” You murmur warmly, “that’s my good boy.” 

He chokes, his thrusts getting harder, a relentless rut of his wet cock against your dripping pussy and you bite down on your tongue at the impulse to beg him to fuck you for real. You’re dizzy, orgasm drunk, and your nails dig into his hips to hold yourself steady. 

“Please,” He pants suddenly, eyes flashing open to find yours, “please, may I come?” 

You’re too close for that, “Hold it, baby,” 

His expression tightens in tense control, “P-please,”

“I’m close,” You tell him, “hold it,”

Tears prick at his eyes and you feel the wet string of his precum on your belly, but he listens. 

A moan pulls free from your chest then, your pleasure fast approaching, and you breathe in hot fits and starts. 

“Come on my cock,” He begs, pleads, “I’m so good for you,” 

Your orgasm crashes into you sideways, the relentless stroke over your clit sending you into pleasured little shakes. 

“Please, I c-can’t, I can’t hold it,” He fists the sheets, his voice a thready wet pant. 

“Come,” You give him all the permission he needs, “come inside me, baby, fill me up,” 

He shudders, thrusting hard twice more, and with groaning moans he spills his release all across your belly, spattering you both in hot cum. 

He’s shaking, trembling, but you run your fingers through his hair and soothe him soft like always. He’s your good boy, your perfect boy, your most obedient boy. 

In the aftermath, when you both come down from your messy, full body pleasure, you find each other in the sheets. 

With kisses across his knuckles you nuzzle into him. 

“Next time, I want you for real,” 

He’s hesitant at first, but you’re ready, you’re sure. 

The next time, you play softer. You’ve learned each other so well, but this time it’s your turn to be vulnerable with your body and he doesn’t let you down for a second. 

It’s a slow process, full of sweetness and foreplay. He’s learned how to make your body sing over weeks and weeks of hookups, and he knows he can make you wet enough, relaxed enough to take him. 

The stretch is achingly delicious. 

And once he’s finally inside you for the first time, your bodies connected in every possible way, you realize he was worth the wait. 

And you fit together in more ways than one. 

As it turns out, your boyfriend’s big dick isn’t such a problem after all. 

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Director's Commentary:

First of all, THIS HIT 200 NOTES IN LESS THAN 2 DAYS????? 🥺💝🥺💝🥺💝🥺💝 Thank you SO MUCH EVERYBODY, I have never had any of my self ship art get this many notes this quickly!! I've also screenshotted every tag I've gotten and will continue to do so! Thank you so much everyone 🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖

Second, I hope that everyone knows I did this 100% original! I have actually had more than one person call this an edit, which makes me very proud of how convincing this apparently is as an imitation of the PPG style! 🥺 But no, I did all of this by hand myself! The screenshots were just referenced :D

Y'all should also know that I don't have any type of tablet or way to do digital art with a pen, I use Adobe Illustrator and only use my mouse. For the first image I did a sketch of the pose on paper and traced over digitally, but I'm proud to say for the other two I did it entirely originally using just reference images and my own imagination! That's something I'm usually not really able to do so I'm very happy that the final result came out so good

The context of the original scene is that Ms. Keane and Professor Utonium just went on a failed date that was set up by the girls, but ended up sharing a little moment after Ms. Keane accidentally tripped and the Professor ended up catching her. I'd like to think the context here is essentially the same, but I'd consider it an AU scenario because there wouldn't be a time in my ship canon where this setup would happen before Cherry and Mojo are dating.

I came up with Cherry's outfit kind of on the spot, it's basically just a fancy version of their normal outfit, with a low cut white shirt, yellow and orange cardigan, and some nice tan boots. They borrowed the choker with the pendant from their cousin, Ms. Bellum :3

I find it funny to think that Mojo wouldn't really wear an actual outfit out on a date, because in his mind, what fit could possibly be better than the villain outfit he designed for himself? He just put on a bowtie to be slightly more fancy 💖 That's actually a reference to the panel below from a DC PPG comic where he's trying to find a date for Valentine's Day and failing... I would have been there for him 🥺

Also I liked the idea of the moon being bright enough to shine through the back of Mojo's big ears, which is why the shading on them if a bit oddly shaped. No one has mentioned anything about that yet so I'm not sure how obvious that came across 😅

Ngl I struggled a bit on the background of Mojo's panel just because it's a unique perspective that I hadn't tried before, so I went and laid down on the floor in the corner of my room to see how the perspective of that looked 😂

In fact now that I think about it... This is the first time I've ever done a full color background at all, digitally OR traditionally. I'd say for my first time it came out pretty good!

In general I'm very happy with the end results, although there are a few mistakes here and there, like there's a secrion of Cherry's shadow that's not filled in all the way, and I think some of the background colors could be better adjusted so they don't blend together as much (especially the bench, what was I thinking making it so similar to the wall color aaaaaah)

That's all I can think of for now that I'd like to comment on. Once again thank you to everyone who has liked or reblogged and an even bigger thank you if you read this far! 🥺💝💝💝💝💝

There are benefits to being clumsy... sometimes you get to fall into the arms of a handsome chimpanzee 💜🩷💜🩷💜

Screenshot redraw of a cute scene from what's basically PPG's Valentine Day special! This was so fun to do, I feel like I learn more abt using Illustrator every time I go back to it :3 🩷 Reblogs are all seen and appreciated, click for higher quality!! Tag list + Screenshots referenced will be under the cut 💜

Tag List!! Click here to be added or removed.

@absentmoon, @avas-wonderland, @bee-ships, @beetleboyfriend, @berryshipbasket, @bugthecalmchild, @canongf, @cloudyvoid, @derelictdumbass, @dissonantyote, @edencantstopfallininlove, @final-catboy, @chickenout , @flowering-darkness, @gibles-lovely-selfships, @hoppinkiss, @hyperionshipping, @impulse-exe, @iwishihadfangs, @iyamifucker, @kissingarthurclaus, @lex-n-weegie, @lficanthaveloveiwantpower, @little-miss-selfships, @little-shiny-sharpies, @loogi-selfships, @mandrakebrew, @midoridayz, @mintpecks, @mothfinite, @mrs-kelly, @nameless-self-ships, @nerdstreak, @odysseyyaoi, @oleanderspride, @orbitingaroundyourlove, @paper-carnation, @reds-self-ships, @rotten--cotton , @spacestationstorybook, @squips-ship, @theheroand, @toogayforthistoday, @winterworlds, @yuzuibanagi

[33max]

What is Max Fest?

Max Fest is a fest dedicated to all things Max! Whether your work focuses solely on Max, or on a pairing including Max, Max Fest is a chance for Max lovers to create and consume all the Max content.

Previous years: Max Fest 2023 | Max Fest 2024

What could I do for Max Fest?

It's completely up to you. Max Fest is available to everyone - writers, artists, creatives, bakers etc.

You could: write a fic, create some art, make a playlist, make a gifset, make a video, knit something... and much, much more.

What pairings are allowed?

Any Max pairings are allowed, with the exception of reader insert. Just make sure you tag your work accordingly.

Is PWP or [insert genre here] allowed?

Yes, all genres are allowed and encouraged. Again, just tag accordingly.

What are the requirements?

• Your creation must be Max centric, either as the focus or as part of the main pairing.

• Your creation should be a minimum of 1000 words, or a time equivalent if you are creating something other than fic.

When is the deadline?

Saturday 31st May, 6pm GMT/7pm CET. This is the weekend of the Spanish Grand Prix.

Do I need to sign up?

No, it's a no pressure fest. Simply upload to the collection before the deadline if you want to participate.

Where is the AO3 collection?

Here!

What should I do if I'm not posting to AO3?

If you can post your work to AO3, please do! However if AO3 doesn't accept your art format then please use the tag #maxfest2025 on tumblr.

Is there a discord server I could join?

There is not a server for Max Fest, but you can join the Golden Boots Boy Server if you want to find like minded creatives also taking part!

If you have any further questions about the event, or if you need some encouragement, feel free to drop me a message. I am really looking forward to feasting on all of the Max content!

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

It's Day Fifteen, so it's the Babysitting prompt. I debated having them babysit Jee-Yun or Denny and Mara, but I miss Christopher and they probably do, too. In this universe, Eddie's move to El Paso was temporary and ended sometime in the late summer so Christopher could be back in LA for his next year of school. This is also on AO3 over here. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

They’ve got Christopher for the afternoon, because Eddie has an appointment and then a couple of errands to run. He’d mentioned his schedule the day before while Buck and Tommy had been dropping a lasagna off for them, asking Christopher if he was okay following him around for a bit, and Tommy had said:

“You know, you could always drop him off with us.”

And Eddie, who'd been spending every free moment possible with his kid and working on a lot of stuff, had been almost hesitant to say yes. Then Christopher had readily agreed, because he hadn't been hung out with them in forever. Buck had turned pleading eyes on Eddie until his best friend agreed.

“Guess I should stop hogging you, kid.”

So Buck is thrilled to have Christopher over. He hasn’t had much hangout time since they came back from El Paso, but he’s also excited to show off his and Tommy’s place to one of his favorite people. Christopher has already seen it when it was just Tommy’s. He hasn’t seen it when it was theirs, though.

Christopher, being a teenager, doesn’t completely appreciate the significance of this, but he does say it’s really “cool” that they’re living together and that he likes the new couch. Buck gives Tommy a smug look over Christopher’ head, and his boyfriend makes a face at him. As far as he’s concerned, it’s the final nail in the “Buck was right in the furniture store” argument.

“You said you brought your Switch, right?” Buck asks, and Christopher nods. “Well, Tommy can hook that up while I grab us some snacks.”

“I can do it,” Christopher offers, taking a few cables from his bag.

“Nah, I got it,” Tommy says, taking everything as Christopher gets it out. “Hon, can you grab me some ice tea?”

Buck smiles and watches fondly as Christopher piles cables and plastic into Tommy's arms. “Yeah. What about you, kid?”

“Just water,” Christopher says, shrugging and smiling. “Thanks.”

He ruffles Christopher’ hair and goes into the kitchen. He’s probably going a little overboard on the tray of snacks he brings out, but he wants Christopher to be happy. He’s missed the kid like a limb, and he plops next to him on the couch and wishes Christopher wasn’t kind of too cool for cuddling now. He still gave Buck a really long hug when he arrived, but Christopher is a teenager. Teenagers don’t do couch cuddle time, though he does tip his head over onto Buck’s shoulder when Buck curls an arm around his head to kiss his hair.

“Thank you,” Christopher says, immediately going for the potato chips once Buck releases him.

Tommy reaches for his ice tea before sitting on Buck’s other side. “Thanks. Alright, we’re hooked up, kid.”

They play through a cup in Mario Kart, and Christopher beats the shit out of both of them. Buck lingers between third and sixth place the whole time, and Tommy’s only marginally better.

“I feel like this is not made for grown hands,” Tommy says, turning the Joy-Con over in his hands and giving it a dubious look.

“I have other ones, but they’ve got wires,” Christopher offers, diving into his backpack.

Tommy’s eyes light up, and he takes them when Christopher pulls out a tangle of wires with two controllers attached. “Way better. Just a sec.”

He hops up and fiddles with the Switch until he has the controllers plugged in. Christopher keeps using the small wireless controller that’s more comfortable for his hands. Buck and Tommy end up pulling their blanket chest and ottoman closer to the TV so the controller cables can reach.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” Buck says eagerly.

He does a little better, Tommy does a lot better. Suspiciously a lot better.

“We had a GameCube on base,” he explains when Buck shoots him a look of betrayal. Tommy’s older, he’s supposed to be worse with technology. “What else do you have on here, kid?”

Buck knows he shouldn’t trust the nonchalant suggestion of Super Smash Bros, and Christopher doesn’t know any better yet. He doesn’t know that Tommy Kinard is a sneaky liar, but Buck has been learning things. Like his boyfriend pretended he'd never made focaccia before so Buck could show him how, and then he'd produced a professional grade loaf on his first try.

“You were really excited. But I really don't know how to make apple pie, I swear.”

He hadn't, it was a disaster until Buck intervened.

It takes a few minutes of Tommy doing seemingly random things on the sides of the stages while Buck tries in vain to go after Christopher, and then he makes a noise of understanding and absolutely destroys them for the next three matches.

“How?” Christopher demands.

“We did a couple tournaments while we were deployed,” Tommy says with an innocent shrug.

“Uh-huh, and who won those?” Buck asks suspiciously.

“Can’t remember,” Tommy lies, grinning.

“You hustled us,” Christopher says, but he looks delighted instead of pissed. He's doubtlessly adding this to the long list of things that makes Tommy cool, which Buck is proud of these days instead of jealous. “Can you beat the CPU on the highest level?”

“I have no idea,” Tommy says, reaching back to grab a carrot stick. “Let’s see.”

What follows is unreal, according to Christopher. They watch Tommy fight a computer controlled character at each difficulty level, and he manages to get through almost all of them. The last one, though, is apparently almost impossible.

“The reaction time on that thing’s literally not physically possible,” Tommy explains as he makes Fox McCloud do something with a shield that Buck can’t follow. When he gets taken out a moment later by the CPU, he sighs and sits back. “Yeah, nope. There’s no way.”

“Let me look up exploits,” Christopher says, poking at his phone.

“Wait, yeah,” Tommy says, twisting around. “Good call, kid.”

Buck settles back and snacks while Tommy and Christopher try to figure out how to exploit an AI-driven computer character, fail several times, and finally Tommy beats one. He jumps to his feet, fists in the air, and comes around the coffee table to shake Christopher’ shoulders (gently) while they roar in each other’s faces like animals.

He loves them both, but they’re two of the biggest nerds he’s ever met.

“That was so cool!” Christopher shouts as Tommy takes a few victory gulps of his tea.

“It was,” Buck agrees, because it had been incredibly entertaining to watch.

“Aw, babe,” Tommy says, kissing the top of his head. “Thanks for putting up with us.”

“Do you wanna play something else?” Christopher asks, and Buck and Tommy exchange a look. “What?”

“How do you feel about go karts?” Tommy asks, grinning. “Not Nintendo ones.”

Christopher looks between them, his eyes going wide behind his glasses. “Wait, for real?”

They pile into Buck’s Jeep, and Christopher hums happily from the backseat when they pull away from the house.

“I missed this car,” he says, and Buck’s heart warms.

“It probably missed you,” he says, glancing in the rear view mirror at Christopher’ smiling face. “I think pretty much everything in LA missed you, kid.”

Christopher rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but Buck doesn’t miss the smile that’s still on his face. Tommy’s hand covers his and squeezes, and Buck lifts it to his lips to kiss it and presses his cheek to the back of Tommy’s hand.

When he gets them safely to the go karting place, Tommy splits off from them to use the bathroom, and Buck hugs Christopher against his side while they scope out the track.

“I missed you, too,” Christopher says, and Buck bends down to kiss his hair. “Even though you and Tommy are all gross still. Dad said you’d mellow out by now, but I said you’d probably be like this even after you get married.”

Buck lets out a strangled laugh at that. “Married? Who said we’re getting married?”

Christopher looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “You guys are totally getting married one day. You’re, like, soulmates.”

He looks around to make sure Tommy isn’t sneaking up on them before leaning in and admitting: “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we are. Which also means that I get to ask you before I ask anyone else to be one of my groomsmen.”

He gets a considering look that makes Christopher look way too much like his father. “Do I get to go to the bachelor party?”

Buck barks out a laugh. “Not a chance, kid.”

Christopher groans. “Can you guys wait until I’m 18, then?”

“Dude, I’m not delaying my wedding so you can go to a bachelor party.” He squeezes Christopher’ shoulder and laughs when the kid sighs loudly and dramatically. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Promise,” Christopher says, raising his pinky. Buck’s breath catches, and he carefully hooks his pinky around Christopher’. “Can I bring a date?”

Buck’s laughing when Tommy comes up on his other side and asks if they’re ready to race.

“I call Christopher,” Tommy says quickly, and Buck lets out a squawk of outrage. “You snooze, you lose, Buckley.”

On the track, he catches sight of Tommy and Christopher more than once and can hear their shouts of joy even over the noise of the engines. He can’t even be mad when they beat him.

“What do I win?” Tommy asks, bouncing once on his toes. He's adorable, Buck wants to squeeze the life out of him.

“I can still hear you,” Christopher reminds them from where he’s texting Eddie. “Before you answer that.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time with your dad,” Buck mutters, but he gives Tommy a kiss. “There. But also, there’s no way you’re winning the next one, because Christopher is coming with me.”

He still loses, because Tommy’s Mario Kart skills apparently translate well to real karts.

“Okay, now what do I win?” Tommy asks smugly.

“A high-five,” Christopher says flatly, raising his hand.

Tommy slaps it. “I’ll take it. You guys want to go around the corner? There’s a good wing spot.”

“Hell yeah,” Buck says, looping an arm around his waist.

As they walk outside and around the corner, Buck leans over and kisses his cheek.

“I’ll give you your prize later,” he promises in a low voice so Christopher can’t hear from where he’s a couple paces ahead of them.

“Yeah?” Tommy murmurs back. “Wanna give me a hint?”

“Dude,” Christopher says.

“There’s no way you heard that!” Buck protests.

“I didn't need to.” He stops so they can catch up with him and shakes his head. “You guys are like the kids at school who make out between classes.”

Tommy scoffs. “I think we have a little more self-control than—”

“Don't lie around the kid, Tommy,” Buck says with a sigh, looping an arm around his boyfriend's waist and letting the other one fall across Christopher’ shoulders. “We’re supposed to set a good example.”

Tommy slips away to go a few steps ahead to get the door to the wing place. “Are we? Because I thought we were about to have a wing eating contest.”

“Yeah, good examples of how to dominate at wing eating contests.” Buck presses a quick kiss to his lips as he passes.

They grab a table as Tommy and Christopher negotiate the terms of the contest, and Buck sends a text to Eddie to let him know that they're feeding Christopher along with a photo of the three of them before Christopher heads into the bathroom.

“I think we're about to win as best babysitters,” Tommy decides, stretching his arms over his head. “I can feel it in my bones.”

Buck huffs out a laugh. “Like that was ever a question. We're definitely the best. Right?”

“We gotta be.”

When Christopher gets back from the bathroom, he looks between them like they’re crazy when they ask him.

“Yeah, duh,” he says, and Buck fistbumps his boyfriend. “Aren't you guys too old to care about stuff like that?”

“Yeah, totally,” Tommy lies.

“Yep,” Buck agrees, also lying through his teeth. “Way too old.”

[sailorsoons]

Still Watching? (l. c)

Pairing: Lee Chan x f. Reader 

Summary: Blood and Popcorn with your newly minted boyfriend is your favorite. Except now you watch a lot less Buffy and a lot more of Chan. 

Word Count: 2,153

Genre: Established Relationship, PWP

Type: Smut

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Shameless pwp, explicit language, explicit sexual content including nipple play, vaginal fingering, a little bit of teasing/edging, cheesy banter. 

A/N: Happy Valentine's day pt II the remix! As always, thank you to @daechwitatamic for beta reading this :)

A/N 2: This is the same couple from Blood & Popcorn but you do not need to read the first story to read this one :) This was originally posted on my old blog.

Main Masterlist | Permanent Tag List | Ask

“Honestly, it is so obvious this show was written by a man,” You mutter, watching as Buffy yells at Xander. “He wants to be a hero for her soooo bad.”

“Xander is the worst,” Chan sighs. You rise and fall with his chest, your back pressed against his front where you lay against him. His knees cage you in on either side of your hips, your ass planted firmly between his legs with his arms around your middle, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “He really thinks he should win the girl just because he’s a nice guy.” 

“Truly, he has like… very few other qualities than being a nice guy.” 

He hums. “At least Spike knows he’s an asshole. It’s guys like Xander who think just because they’re not blatantly awful that it makes them dateable.” 

“A lot of guys think that.” 

“Mhmm. I’m a rare breed.” 

You crane your neck to look up at him. You can hear and feel the steady thud of his heart, smell the hint of aftershave and menthol from his shower earlier, feel the heat of his skin. It makes you a little dizzy and you unfocus on the screen, studying the gentle curve of Chan’s mouth. 

“You’re surely something,” you mutter in response, grinning a little as you look away toward the screen. His fingers slip under your shirt, skimming your waist. You suppress a shiver, suddenly hyper aware of the way his fingers scrape against you. 

“I’m a nice guy and I know that it takes more than being a decent human being to get the girl.”

“Oh yeah? Remember the time it took four years to confess your feelings to me? What do you know, Lee Chan?”

“Hmm. Data is insufficient. Need more evidence regarding that specific example.” 

For a moment, you’re unable to respond, lids fluttering as Chan continues to caress your lower stomach and hips. His touch is completely innocent, no suggestion that he intends anything. That he means anything. It’s a motion that is instinctual for him, so naturally to have his hands on you that it almost makes it worse. 

Just knowing how easy it is for him to love you never fails to surprise you. You don’t know how you never saw it before. 

Now it seems silly to have ever thought that Chan was anything less than in love with you. It’s in the way he naturally gravitates toward you in every room. It’s in the way he can be totally focused on something else, but his hand reaches out for you, not even really noticing that he’s seeking you out. It’s  in the way that you mold so perfectly into his chest, made to be there. 

“You don’t know your own data?” you shoot back eventually, snuggling a little closer to him. If you could crawl into his hoodie, you would. For now, this is fine. “Seems like you don’t know much.” 

“Hmm?” His fingers stop moving. You feel the question hum against you. “I don’t know much?” 

“Nope.”

Your heart starts to pick up. Chan’s fingers start stroking your skin again but you feel the difference. His blunt nails scrape across your skin, raising goosebumps on your arms. He skims his hands higher and back down, touch light over your ribs. Every time his fingers dance up your side, his reach goes a little higher. 

A tightness forms in your throat. You try to keep your breathing even and will yourself not to squeeze your thighs. You are pressed too close to him for him not to tell if you squirm. Chewing your lip, you stare at the screen totally unseeing. 

“Hm.” Chan’s deep hum hints at trouble. You feel your hands get clammy. “I think I know some things. Like for example…” He trails off for a moment, hand brushing under your left breast. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, fighting a twitch. “I know that your favorite color on me is green.” 

“Green is a good color on anyone.”

“I know that you like the feeling…” His hand skates low this time, fingers dancing dangerously against the waistband of your shorts. “Of high thread count sheets.”

You snort. “Everyone likes good sheets, Chan.” 

“Good sheets are important,” he agrees. You feel him trace his pointer finger back up with deadly accuracy, following the swell of your breast upward, skating so close to your nipple that you stop breathing. “Everything alright? You stopped breathing.”

“What?” you squeak. “Oh, yep. I am great.” 

“I don’t know, baby. Are you feeling well? You seem… warm.”

Chan presses his palm flat to your chest, fingers splayed wide. His palm is warm and rough, his touch igniting a fire inside of you. The heat spreads outward, licking at every one of your nerves and setting them ablaze. 

In an effort to ignore him, you lick your lips and say, “Never felt better. I like her boots.” 

His chuckle is low. Throaty. You’re barely holding it together, feeling the ache between your thighs at the firmness of his touch. “See, I don’t know a lot about women’s fashion. But I do know those are not boots. Just like I know you’re not paying attention to the show, Bambi.”

You blink and stare at the TV. Chan’s right. Buffy is in sneakers, though in your unfocused haze they had been blurry and looked like boots from a distance. You swallow down the dryness in your throat, Chan’s hand still pressed flat and warm against your chest. 

“I know that your heart is pounding,” Chan murmurs, voice barely audible as he presses his mouth by your ear. Your eyes flutter shut. “I know that you’re trying really hard not to squeeze those thighs.” 

“You can’t possibly know that.” 

To prove his statement true, Chan’s thumb brushes upward, skating gently over a nipple. On command, your thighs squeeze and you feel the shake of his laughter behind you. 

“I know everything about you, Bambi.” His voice brushes against you like his soft touch. You melt, feeling your weight sink into him further. “I know that you don’t share your food with anyone but me. I know that your favorite episode of Buffy is Hush. I know that you think Buffy should end up with Spike. I know that you are probably soaked right now because being caressed drives you crazy.” 

“Insufficient data,” you breathe. “I recommend research.” 

“You know what? Agreed.” 

Chan moves fast. His hand moves from your chest to between your legs, hands slipping under the waistband of your shorts and panties before you can blink. Your lips part, a breathy noise escaping you as Chan drags a slow finger up your sticky folds. 

“What do you know,” he observes. His fingers idly trail up and down your slit, making you twitch against him. “I was right. Do I win anything?” 

“I thought you said nice guys shouldn’t just win the girl.” 

Chan presses his fingers firmly to your clit, a ripple of pleasure ebbing through you. Your hips lift off the couch slightly but he pushes you back down into his lap, other hand looping around your waist to lock you to him. “Maybe I’m not that nice.”

Slowly, he starts to retract his hand. You whimper, both of your hands shooting to grab the wrist belonging to the hand between your legs. He pauses, fingers pressed between your folds. “You are nice!” 

“Oh?”

“Very nice. You’re my very nice, very sweet boyfriend.” 

“I see.” 

He doesn’t move his hand at all. The space is filled with the low hum of Buffy fighting vampires, the blue flash of the screen falling against your silhouettes, body to body as he holds you tight. You try to get control of your racing heart, but that’s never been easy around Chan.

He knows it.  

“Maybe you know some things,” you admit slowly. “Maybe I was wrong.”

Chan’s resounding chuckle is dangerous, but he slides his hand back down. You loosen your grip on his wrist but keep your hands resting on his forearm, feeling the muscle flex under your fingertips as his fingers resume their debauched exploration. 

“See, that’s another thing I know. I know you hate being wrong, so if you’re wrong… it was because you were doing so intentionally.”

His words fall on unlistening ears. You’re too worked up by the simple way he plays you, too focused on the way his fingers gently circle your clit, the perfect stimulation. Too distracted by the way he dips his head down to sweep his mouth across your throat in open-mouthed kisses. 

“I know you’re… not listening.” He stops and you let out a strangled sound, nails digging into his arms. He presses a wet kiss to your pulse point. “Didn’t think so.”

“Chan.” 

“Hmm?”

“Please don’t tease me.”

“Why not? You were teasing me.” 

You pout. He can’t see it, but you know he knows it’s there. “I like to tease you. I have to keep you humble.” 

A long moan slips from your lips and you tilt your head back to Chan’s shoulder when he presses a finger into your aching cunt. You feel yourself twitch around him, hips swiveling for more friction. 

“Humble? How are you ever going to keep me humble when this pussy gets this wet after I’ve barely touched you?”

Well that’s true. You don’t care, though, turning boneless as Chan strokes you with his fingers properly. It feels so good. Only he knows how to touch you like this, familiar with every button to press and every contour to mold to. 

Heat flushes your neck. Chan presses his lips against your cheek, working your cunt with his fingers as he holds you steadfast. It feels like you might suffocate, totally trapped against him. His skin and breath are hot against you, the air thick. He breathes out a groan when your hips buck upward, Chan dropping all pretext of teasing you.

“Like that,” he breathes, heavy. “Do it exactly how you like it.”

Another finger drives you wild. You fumble over his name, squeezing your eyes shut and meeting the quick strokes of his hand. His palm presses firmly against your clit, letting you grind yourself against him for the extra stimulation. 

You burn up. Briefly you wonder if this flash of euphoric heat is what Icarus felt before the fall. The thought is chased away from the intense pressure in your stomach as Chan presses up against that spot inside you, making stars burst behind your eyes.

“Wait - I’m gonna come in my shorts,” you whine, realizing you still have them on. “Chaaaan.”

“So come in them,” he says simply. “Research has revealed that you have a washer and dryer down the hall, baby. Go ahead.” 

“Fuuuuck.” 

“Come for me. I know you want to.” 

You do want to. A moment of static builds up, your thighs squeezing around his hand so hard he can’t move and then you’re coming around his fingers, your nails biting into the skin of his wrist. His grip across your waist is like iron, holding you to him as you come undone. 

Chan’s mouth presses gentle kisses on your jaw, muttering soft I love yous and fuck yeahs against your burning skin. The burning doesn’t stop, your body flushed with heat as you sink away from your orgasm, turning to molten metal and melting into his hold. 

He leaves you like that for a few minutes, thighs shaking around the hand still shoved between your legs, fingers pressed deep inside of you. It feels intimate, and you crane your neck, driven by the desire to kiss him. Chan’s lips are already there because he knew you would want his lips against yours. 

Just like he knows everything about you. 

Chan’s lips are soft and gentle. His tongue brushes against yours in a slow dance and you lean up into him more, desperate for him. He laughs into the kiss, letting you have your way until you’re panting, sweaty and out of breath again. 

You sag, head on his shoulder as you pant. “Your fingers are still in me.”

“Mhm.” He presses them in harshly, making you jolt. It earns a deep laugh from him. “Maybe we should call this Popcorn & Pussy instead. We’ve barely gotten through a full night of episodes since we started dating.”

“Are you aware you make the worst jokes?” You open your eyes and glance at the screen, only to find that the show has paused between episodes, asking if you’re still watching and if you want to continue. “Are you still watching? No, Buffy. I’m not.”

“No problem.” Chan pulls his hand from between your legs, the wet squelch making you whimper. “I have something else you can watch.” 

“Oh?” 

Chan kisses your temple sweetly before getting up, letting you fall back against the couch while he kneels on the couch and pulls your legs toward his face. You inhale deeply, watching as he looks up through long lashes, a smirk on his face. “Still watching, Bambi?” 

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy21-blog @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched@eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy@gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries@archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona@beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen@mingumi @kimsaerom @imlonelydontsendhelp @ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy21-blog @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched@eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy@gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries @archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona @beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen @mingumi @kimsaerom @imlonelydontsendhelp

[devixxish]

Synopsis: A dive into Gojo's mentality after your inevitable break up. Can be read as a follow up to this.

Word Count: 1,101

Tags: angst, emotional distress, self blame, basically he's going thru it after y'alls breakup.

A/N: while taking a break from working on main pieces, I came up with this lil sumn. Enjoy? <33

It was quiet. Way too quiet. The kind of quiet that made his own breathing sound too loud, made the walls feel like they were closing in on him. Suffocating. Yet his apartment felt too big without you in it. Too still.

He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His fingers twitched, restless. Like they were searching, yearning for something to hold onto. But there was nothing. There hadn't been anything for a while now, and it was all his own fault.

The lamp in the corner buzzed faintly, lighting the room in a dull, yellow glow. It didn't quite reach the far corners. It barely reached the shadows creeping in from the hallway, long and unmoving. The air was cold and stale, heavy with the scent of something old, but not really. Something faint, something familiar. Your perfume still clung to the fabric of his bedsheets, to every little thing you had touched in his apartment. Too light to be real, too strong to ignore.

He should open a window. Or maybe turn the heater on. He should just do something to make the place feel less empty, less quiet, less.. Less like you. But all he did was sit there, wallowing in his own regrets.

The apartment still looked like you might walk in at any moment. His bedsheets still messy from the last time you were there; he hadn't touched them. Your hair tie on the bathroom sink. A forgotten sweater draped over the chair by the window. A book you never got to finish, spine-up on the nightstand. Little pieces of you, scattered everywhere. He told himself he should put it all away, or maybe send them over to you, save you the trouble of coming over to pick them up. But the thought of erasing you like that, of making it truly final made him sick in his stomach.

The silence was almost deafening, louder than any argument you had ever had.

It had been a few days, maybe a week since he let go. Or maybe since you let go. Since everything slipped through his fingers and he just let it happen. Not because you wanted to leave. Not because you got tired of him, or fell out of love. But because he was the one who pushed you away in the worst way possible.

He didn't mean to. God, he didn't mean to.

But how do you hold onto something real when you're still haunted by a ghost?

He thought he had time. He thought you'd always be there, waiting for him to open his eyes, to see what was right in front of him. Thought he had time to figure his shit out. He thought you understood. How selfish of him. People aren't placeholders; he figured you eventually realized that. You realized you weren't what he wanted. Not really.

And by the time he did want you - really want you - it was too late. You were already gone.

A car drove by outside. Muffled voices sounded from somewhere down the street. The neighbor's dog barked. Life kept moving on without him. No one knew he was there, sitting in his apartment that still reminded him of you, wishing he could undo the last few months of his life.

A sharp exhale left his chest, shaky, unsteady. With a shake of his head, he let out a small laugh, a bitter sound. A few years ago, he would've scoffed at the thought of himself like this- sitting alone in his freezing apartment, alone, a mess, waiting for someone to notice he was fucking miserable. He was always the one who didn't need anyone. The strongest; nothing could touch him.

But look at him now.

Drenched in sorrow, full of regrets, rethinking his every decision. Silently begging for someone to care.

And still, no one did.

He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face, fingers pressing into his temples. His mind hazy and his body heavy, keeping him stuck on this moment, on this feeling. The memories came in flashes. The way your eyes used to light up when you smiled at him. The way you'd hold onto his hand, laughing at something stupid he said. The way you looked at him that last night; hurt, exhausted, waiting for him to say something that never came.

His eyes drifted over to the place you used to sit, curled in on yourself, or wrapped around him. The place where you talked or read, or simply existed in the unique way you did. Now, it was just messy sheets, a dent in the mattress and silence. Another ghost.

He missed you. God, he really did. Not just the version of you in his head, but you. The real you. The one who did wait for him, maybe longer than you should have. The one who tried to love him even when he couldn't love you back properly. The one he let slip away because he was too caught up in someone else who belonged in his past. Because he had been too blind, too fucking selfish to see what he had until it was already gone.

People don't just wake up and decide they'll leave. They leave when they realize they were never really chosen.

And he had let you walk away thinking you never meant anything.

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw tight as he let out a slow exhale.

You were better now, away from him. At least, he hoped you were. You deserved that much and even more. And he- he didn't know what he deserved anymore. Maybe this was exactly what he deserved. Nights like this, stuck inside his own head, replaying every moment, every second of whatever went wrong.

How pathetic.

How fucking human.

The apartment felt smaller now. Like the walls were shrinking, ready to swallow him whole. His ribs felt like they were closing in on him, pressing against his already aching heart.

He needed to move, to do something. Maybe go to bed, or take a walk, or just do something other than sit there drowning in this feeling. His body refused to cooperate, but he finally willed himself to stand up.

Being in there, alone with his thoughts, surrounded by all the places you used to be- he couldn't stand it anymore.

So he grabbed his jacket.

He didn't know where he would go. But then again, he didn't really care.

If he was lucky, maybe the night would swallow him whole before the morning could find him.

Devixxish© All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload or modify my work in any way.

@spaceinvadernelly as promised<3

[losernb]

Valentine's Day Surprise

Sevika’s never experienced  this before. Valentine's Day is a Piltover holiday, there’s no time for stuff like this in Zaun. She never would’ve known about it if she didn’t decide to take you and the girls out for a fun day last week.

Valentine’s Day:

“Look over there!” Jinx points, drawing Isha’s attention to the giant sign. It’s bright pink, covered in a bunch of hearts, and it reads:

Valentine’s Day Sale- All the chocolate, flowers, and plushies a girl could ever want!

Isha’s face lights up with excitement as she reads it. Candy, flowers, and a new teddy bear?! I want them! She signs eagerly towards Jinx.. 

“You gotta ask Sevika, she’s the one with the money.” Jinx says with a laugh.

Without hesitation, Isha dashes over to where you and Sevika are talking, tugging insistently at Sevika’s sleeve. Sevika looks down at her, brow raised in confusion.

“What’s wrong kid?” Sevika asks, voice hinting with confusion. Isha points to the sign, causing both you and Sevika to turn and look at it. You laugh a little, knowing why she was drawing your attention to it. 

“Looks like we know what we’re buying today.” You laugh and pick Isha up, settling her down on your hip and kissing her cheek. She giggles and throws both arms up, letting out a victorious squeal. Sevika rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh, “Alright, c’mon girls let’s go see what this is about.”

The four of you walk into the store, taking in the assortment of flowers and the piles of plushies. Isha and Jinx are mesmerized. Before you can blink, Isha wriggles out of your arms, grabbing Jinx’s hand and dragging her toward the stuffed animals.

“The hell is ‘Valentine’s Day’ anyway?” Sevika asks you, never having heard of it before. You grew up in Zaun as well so you had no clue. 

“Maybe we can go ask?” You suggest, walking up to the first worker you see. It’s an older lady who smiles when she sees the two of you. “Hello, what can I do for you lovely ladies?” She asks, smiling warmly.

“Hi, I just wanted to ask what Valentine’s Day is, I saw it on the sign outside.” You reply, offering back a small smile. 

The woman lets out a small laugh, “Oh dear, you’ve never heard of Valentine’s Day? Are you new to Piltover?”

You nod. “Yeah, actually. We don’t really have fancy holidays in Zaun—just birthdays and anniversaries, mostly.”

Sevika shifts beside you, resting a hand on your back—a habit of hers whenever she senses something’s off. You glance at her, noticing the subtle furrow in her brow.

Then, the woman’s smile fades. Her expression stiffens, her warmth turning to something colder.

“Oh,” she says, voice suddenly clipped. “Well, it’s a day to celebrate loved ones.” The words feel forced, like an afterthought. “Excuse me, I need to go.” She turns abruptly, walking away without another word.

You turn back to Sevika and understand the look now, she caught the lady’s shift in attitude before you did. You kiss her cheek, as a reminder that everything’s okay. “Cmon Sevi, lets just get our girl and go.” Sevika nods, jaw tight, but says nothing.

You make your way over to Jinx and Isha, who are still enthralled by the plushies.

“Pick out anything you like yet?” You bend down to ask Isha. She’s holding a little brown bear and Jinx is holding a bunny. This one! She signs, putting down the bear to free up her hands.

“Excuse me.”

You turn to see a small man, his posture stiff, a name tag reading Manager pinned to his vest.

“Could you please leave?” His tone is polite, but his expression is anything but.

You don’t need to ask why. The woman from earlier must’ve told him where you’re from. Zaunites aren’t banned from Piltover stores, but some people—especially in places like this—act like they should be.

You sigh, standing up and gently gathering Isha into your arms.

What’s happening? Isha signs, confusion flickering across her face.

“We gotta go, kiddo,” Jinx says with a sigh, patting her back.

Isha deflates against your shoulder, small hands gripping your jacket. Her excitement, her joy—gone in an instant.

Sevika sees it, too. The hurt in Isha’s expression. The way Jinx looks away, lips pressed into a thin line. And something inside her snaps.

She steps forward, towering over the manager. “Yeah? And what exactly is the reason we need to leave?” Her voice is steady, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

The manager swallows, visibly intimidated. “I—I just think it would be best if—”

“Best for who?” Sevika cuts him off. “We were minding our own damn business.”

His gaze flickers between her and you, then to Isha in your arms, her little brown bear still clutched to her chest. He hesitates, but the damage is done.

Sevika clicks her tongue. “Tch. C’mon, let’s go,” she mutters, turning on her heel.

Jinx nudges Isha. “Keep the bear, kid. They owe you.”

Isha nods hesitantly, tightening her hold on it as the four of you leave.

Surprise Set up:

A week had passed since that incident, and Sevika had mostly put it out of her mind, believing it to be a thing of the past. Little did she know, while she was busy in Piltover handling her Councilor duties, you and the girls had been hard at work planning a little surprise.

While you baked the cake and prepared the dinner, Jinx was in charge of the decorations and Isha sat at the table, her tongue poking out in concentration as she scribbled on a card.

“Isha! The cake is done cooling, do you wanna help me decorate it?” You called out to her.

There was no verbal response—just the rapid pat-pat-pat of Isha’s little feet racing toward the kitchen. She crashed into your legs at full speed, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Whoa—!” You let out a startled yelp, catching yourself on the counter.

“Slow down, you little tornado. Almost made me drop the cake.” She just nods in understanding before grabbing the stool, the one that was exclusively hers since she was the shortest, and drags it over. 

You leave Isha to do her own little thing, knowing it’ll be messy but heartfelt. With her focused on the cake, you wandered into the living room to check on Jinx’s progress.

Your jaw nearly dropped.

Jinx had outdone herself—balloons, streamers, and paper hearts covered the room. Candles flickered on various surfaces, their soft glow giving the space a warm, golden hue.

“You seem to really enjoy this, huh?” You nudge Jinx’s shoulder. She chuckles, admitting, “Yeah, its fun to be asked to spice up a room instead of just vandalizing it.” You grinned and pulled her into a quick hug. “It looks amazing. She’s gonna love it.”

Jinx smirked but looked away, pretending not to care too much. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Once everything was set, you plated dinner and let the girls eat even though Sevika wasn’t home yet. You knew better than to wait—whenever she had meetings, she always came home late.

After dinner, you put on a movie, intending to wait up for her. But before it even reached the halfway mark, the three of you had melted into a sleepy pile on the couch—tangled together in a mess of limbs, warmth, and slow breathing.

Sevika’s Arrival:

The front door creaked open softly. Sevika stepped inside, moving quietly in case you and the girls were already asleep. Sometimes, she found you curled up on the couch, waiting for her with a book in hand.

That was what she’d been hoping for.

Instead, what she saw made her stop in her tracks.

Balloons. Candles. Paper hearts covering the walls.

She blinked, wondering if exhaustion was playing tricks on her. But no—it was real.

Slowly, she walked toward the dining table. A full meal sat waiting for her, along with a very wonky-looking cake and a single handmade card.

She already knew whose handiwork the cake was.

With a quiet chuckle, she picked up the card and opened it.

Inside was a drawing—your little makeshift family. Jinx and Isha in the middle, Sevika on the left, you on the right. It was messy, colorful, imperfect, and completely perfect.

At the top, in bold, sloppy handwriting, it read:

Happy Valintinez Day!

Sevika swallowed hard, her chest tightening. Her vision blurred slightly. She hadn’t expected this. Not after the way that stupid Piltover store had turned you all away like you were less. Not after she’d spent years thinking she wasn’t someone people would celebrate, let alone love.

A quiet sniffle escaped her. She tried to muffle it, rubbing at her eyes, but the sound must have woken you.

Blinking groggily, you lifted your head from the couch, scanning the room until your eyes landed on her.

Sevika stood frozen by the table, her back to you, shoulders trembling just slightly.

You nudged the girls off you gently before getting up and walking toward her.

“Hey,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around her from behind. “What’s wrong, love? Shitty meeting again?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned around, cupped your face in her hands, and kissed you—soft, slow, and deep.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against yours. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You smiled, brushing away the stray tears that clung to her lashes. “Oh, you big softie,” you teased, tugging her toward the couch. “C’mere.”

You shifted Jinx and Isha just enough to make space, then pulled Sevika down with you. Isha stirred slightly, snuggling into Sevika’s side while Jinx grumbled in her sleep before draping an arm over both of you.

Sevika sighed, her arms instinctively wrapping around the girls, keeping them close.

“I love you guys so much,” she whispered, like it was something sacred. Something she’d never dared say before.

You pressed a kiss to her cheek before resting your head on her shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

“We love you too,” you murmured.

Sevika glanced down at the small, sleeping faces tucked against her, at the mess of decorations still scattered around the room. Her heart was full in a way she didn’t think possible.

She pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before letting sleep take her, safe and warm in the only place she’d ever truly belonged.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this T^T. I would've posted this earlier but I had to go to work lol

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY POOKS <3